


Not Forgotten

by TammyCat



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Confusion, Hiding in Plain Sight, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Ratchet is a pervert, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TammyCat/pseuds/TammyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given a chance, would you trade who you are to continue living? Prowl and Jazz face this choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prowl’s faceplate didn’t show any expression as he entered the sparsely furnished room. There was a berth tilted at a forty-five degree angle, a control console and a single chair. The walls were a utilitarian grey that sapped away any joy in his spark. The difference in the décor was intentional; he mechs brought to this room would never leave it. The change in atmosphere served to bring the point home and encourage any last minute confessions.

 He hated this room. It felt like death.

Prowl’s optics moved over the mech on the berth and his spark ached. He was chained at every possible joint, there was no way he could ever escape his bonds. The black frame was scratched and dented, evidence of his capture and subsequent interrogation. The mech had yielded sensitive information with only minor resistance, but not enough to stay his execution. He was classified as extremely dangerous, with a long list of offences to his name.

“Sir, you don’t have to be here for this.”

He turned to face the technician in charge of deactivating the prisoner. Weary blue optics in a grey face that had seen too much waited for him to leave. This Autobot had been taking sparks from Decepticon prisoners for several vorns and Prowl could see the duty was straining the poor mech. He made a mental note to reassign the technician elsewhere.

“Everybot deserves to have their end witnessed.” Prowl replied, his voice steady and bland.

“Ya gonna mourn me, copbot?”

He turned his head and finally looked the prisoner in the optics. “Not for a moment.”

The mech’s face, dented and cracked with drying energon, faltered. The prisoner was clearly not used to being without a visor as his silver optics revealed his inner turmoil. Prowl’s spark prickled knowing that he was going to be the last person this mech would ever see.

The once handsome face stared at him intently and Prowl could read the mech’s desire to talk, not that anything he said would change his fate.

Prowl faced the Autobot again. “I would like to speak to the prisoner, please wait outside.”

The technician darted a glance to the restrained prisoner. “Are you sure you want to be alone, sir?”

“The chances of him escaping and incapacitating me are infinitesimal, especially in his current state.”

“I’ll take ya on, copbot.” The mech called out with a cackle.

 Apparently reassured that his absence wouldn’t get the Second in Command attacked, the tech threw a warning glare at the prisoner and left the chamber.

 Prowl turned to face the berth. “You will be executed today, Meister.”

“I know.”

“You are resigned to your fate?”

White shoulders moved as much as they could within the restraints. “I expected to be dead long before now. I’ve been livin’ on borrowed time.”

“Do you understand why you are being executed?”

The mech grinned. “For my crimes against ya?”

Prowl nodded. “For your crimes against the Autobots and neutral Cybertronians alike.”

He let out a low whistle. “Goin’ all the way back, huh?”

“You will be held accountable for all the crimes we have evidence you were involved in.”

Prowl moved around the room, deactivating the recording devices set up to document any last confessions.

“Ya gonna stay and watch?”

“Yes.”

He stopped next to the inclined berth; silver optics looked up into his. The bare emotion in his gaze was Prowl’s undoing. His spark jolted and started to race, the reality of the situation tearing at his control over his emotions.

“Not gonna mourn me, Prowler?”

“Not for a single moment, Meister.”

The mech flinched, his optics full of hurt and confusion before he averted his gaze. Prowl brought his face back with a hand on his dented chin.

“I will mourn you for eternity.”

Relief and slight amusement replaced the darker emotions swirling in his optics. Once again Prowl was amazed at the way this former-Decepticon could change moods.

Meister pressed his cheek into Prowl’s hand. “Sweet talker, I don’ know why tha Autobots think ya have no spark.”

“None of them tried to find it. No one did until you.”

Pride burst onto the face Prowl adored. It had been a tumultuous relationship from the beginning but somehow they had managed to make it work in an unorthodox kind of way.

Meister had been a Decepticon when he’d captured Prowl the first time. He’d tortured the senior tactician for information before realizing that Prowl wouldn’t break. It had taken several days. Prowl had then managed to escape his bonds and knocked out his attacker in a brief scuffle before returning to base. From that point on Meister had appeared whenever Prowl had left the relative safety of Iacon, chipping away at Prowl’s resistance.

Now Prowl looked down at his neutral lover and felt grief bloom in his spark. It had taken two vorns for Meister to get Prowl to stop shooting at him and talk, three more for Prowl to convince Meister to leave the Decepticons. Fights had been normal between them, physical and verbal as they tried to convert the other. Meister had finally agreed and defected, becoming a neutral. Less than seven orns later he had been caught by a routine patrol and brought back to Iacon.

“I’m sorry, Meister.” Prowl said softly, linking his fingers with Meister’s.

His free hand moved from his cheek and trailed over the marks left behind from the interrogation, willing away the pain. He touched each of the slices and burns, all of the areas where plating had been stripped and circuitry violated. Prowl had been present while Ironhide and Volt had drawn the information out of Meister, using every tool at their disposal. It had been terrible having to watch and do nothing as the knives carved into Meister’s plating and the electrical charges flowed through his systems, making him thrash and cry out.

“Wha’ for?”

“Being unable to save you. I didn’t know they had you in custody until Optimus Prime informed me and by then you were already in interrogation.” At that point he’d volunteered to be the officer observing the questioning.

Meister’s shoulders moved again in a subdued shrug. “Not ya fault, babe. I shoulda known better than to hang out so close to Iacon’s borders.”

Prowl’s doorwings drooped; Meister had been waiting for him at the boundary of Iacon’s territory. He would abuse himself for that later; right now he focused on Meister’s expressive optics. He’d been fascinated by the odd colour of his optics from the moment he’d broken Meister’s visor and seen them. At the moment they were clear and gazing steadily back at him, no sign of fear for what was coming.

“You don’t seem concerned.”

Meister laughed and Prowl could just hear the tension in the light sound. “If I wasn’ strapped down so well, I’d be shakin’… But I’ll be alright; I’ve got ya here with me until they unplug me. Then I’ll wait for ya in the Well.”

Prowl smiled, a small lift of his lips. “I suspect even in the Well you will manage to cause trouble.”

Meister grinned crookedly. “That’s what I’m good for.”

He shook his head once more and looked around the room. The technician would be back soon. Optimus Prime would most likely attend as well, if only to briefly speak to Meister. His leader liked these events even less than Prowl did. The Prime’s view of all sentient life being allowed a chance for survival was noble but not always achievable. In Meister’s case, he’d been causing havoc for far too long to simply be given the chance to escape and destroy whatever building he was in.

It would be practically impossible for Meister to escape his current situation….However, Prowl’s optics narrowed as he surveyed the room with his tactical programming running; it wasn’t unusual for Meister to escape in circumstances just as dire as this one.

“Whatever ya thinkin’ of doin’, stop it.”

Prowl jerked his gaze back to Meister. “I have done nothing yet.”

Meister’s fingers tightened on his. “Yet. I know that look. Ya tryin’ to find a way for me to escape. Stop. It’s not worth ya position here.”

“You are worth any sacrifice.” Prowl said firmly, genuinely believing his words.

The black helm shook. “No, I’m not. I’ve fragged up a lot in my life but I won’ let ya do the same. Ya the only one who fought for me, Prowler, let me do this and we can start new in the Well.”

Prowl’s doorwings drooped further as he accepted his lover’s words and shut down his programming. “I’m sorry I did not do anything to stop them during the interrogation. Even after you’d given everything you knew.”

The often hidden brow ridge quirked. “Knowin’ ya were there kept me goin’ Prowler. I knew ya wouldn’ let ‘em hurt me too bad. Besides, I didn’ tell ‘em eveythin’ I know.”

 It was Prowl’s turn to look confused. “What did you keep back?”

Meister’s optics darkened subtly, his grin turned lustful and Prowl spark jumped. “I didn’ tell ‘em about you. I didn’ want ‘em to know just how gorgeous ya look when ya teasin’ me with ya doorwings. Or the way ya like it when I bite ya chevron. Certainly didn’ want to tell them just how good it felt when we merged, spike to port and spark to spark.”

Prowl’s doorwings swept up his back, his energon heating and rushing through his body at his lover’s words. He glared at Meister who grinned back unrepentantly. Prowl shook his head and dropped it onto Meister’s shoulder, offlining his optics to enjoy the soothing pulse of a spark close to his.

“Must you make this harder than it already is?”

A soft chuckle came from beside his audio and he felt lips press against his chevron, the contact sending pleasurable sensations through his body.

“Sorry, Prowler. But I can’t have ya forgettin’ me after they smelt me down.”

Prowl reared back at glared hotly down at Meister. “I doubt that will be an issue.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to come back just to harass ya.” Meister shifted and jerked his head to the side. His visor slipped down out of his helm and covered his optics. “Take it, it should be loose. I want ya to have it.”

Prowl carefully removed the crystalline glass and inspected it. “This will not suit me nor will it integrate into my helm.”

Meister’s optics rolled. “Sure, now ya let ya sense’o’humour show. Slagger.”

Prowl smiled softly again and leaned down to press a quick kiss against Meister’s lips. “I will keep it safe for you.”

“Ya’d better. I’ll be back for that.” Meister laughed.

“If there is a way to escape the Well, I’m certain you will be the one to find it.”

Meister winked. “If I frag off Primus ya gotta come save me.”

Prowl let a soft laugh escape. “I see life will not change much at all.”

He read the invitation in Meister’s silver optics and gave in to it. Leaning over the restrained body, Prowl pressed into him before sealing their lips together.

Heat sparked, running through his body until his doorwings trembled. A soft sound came from his trapped lover, making Prowl groan into the kiss as his spark whirled hotly. Meister always managed to bring forward his passionate side, whether it was as a fight or interfacing.

His hand moved over Meister’s chest, playing over the bindings and stroking the plating. His lover shook and strained against the cables. Prowl could clearly read the arousal as Meister’s energy field flared against his own.

“Prowl, maybe ya could loosen the cables just a little?”

He shook his head, a wicked smile on his faceplate. His wings perked up on his back and he increased the pressure of his touches.

“No, I don’t think I will. You had your chance for my help. You denied me. Do you remember what happens when you deny me?”

A shudder ran through Meister’s body that shook the berth. His energy field brushed against Prowl’s before merging with it, allowing Prowl to feel his hands on Meister’s chassis. His spark quivered in his chest as he kissed Meister desperately, his processor knew what they faced next but Prowl was resolutely ignoring it. He left Meister’s lips to trail down his neck, biting at the delicate cables and lines.

Meister groaned and tilted his head to allow Prowl greater access. “Oh, Primus! That’s so good.” He thrashed as much as he could and growled. “Ya gonna kill me, Prowler.”

The words crashed through Prowl’s processor like a wave of iced coolant. He jerked away from the berth, cycling air heavily through his vents as he stared straight at the grey floor. The purpose of the room slamming into him and bringing home the reason they were there; Meister’s execution.

Pain burst in his chest and a soft noise left his vocalizer. His processor stalled, overcome by the sheer force of the grief in his spark. The world turned hazy around the edges of his vision.

“Prowl, I’m sorry. Come back over here.”

He continued to back away, putting as much distance between himself and the berth as possible. His vents roared in the small room as they tried to cool down the growing heat in his frame. He didn’t want to watch Meister deactivated, he shouldn’t have to. They should have had a chance to build a life together, maybe one day Bond and have sparklings. Now none of that was possible.

“Dammit, Prowl! Get over here.”

Prowl’s head snapped up, his optics locking on Meister’s. It wasn’t often that he heard that tone in his lover’s voice anymore. It was the one he used when he was boxed into a corner, hints of desperation and frustration tinting his voice.

Prowl’s peds moved without him consciously telling them to. Once again he was at Meister’s side, black fingers reaching out for his.

“Ya said ya wouldn’ leave me.”

Prowl shook his head, clearing the distortion in his neural networks. He wrapped his hand around Meister’s fingers. “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Prowl. I didn’ mean it like that.”

“I know. I overreacted.” Prowl replied, surprised at his own actions. He never overreacted, he was constantly being accused of not reacting enough.

Meister’s head bobbed. “Ya okay?”

“I will be, I must be under more stress than I initially thought.”

Meister’s fingers tightened around his. “You’ll take some time off after today won’t you? Relax your processor?”

Prowl shook his head. “No. I will focus on my work.”

“Prowler, ya need to take a break, ya work yaself into stasis regularly.”

“What could I possibly do with leave time without you? I’ll sit around and become morose. I’d rather work until I can overcome and control the emotions.”

Prowl saw Meister accept his reasoning, he also saw how much Meister disliked it. Prowl ran a hand down the scratched cheek to reassure his lover.

“At least promise me you’ll talk to somebody, make a few friends just so I know ya not alone.” Meister persisted.

He nodded. He could do that; surely friends would not be terribly hard to find if he looked.

Prowl’s internal chronometer ticked away the time and he knew their solitude would be broken soon. He leant down and pressed his helm against Meister’s, gazing into his unique silver optics.

“I love you.”

“I love ya too, Prowler.”

The door opened abruptly and Prowl jerked back to see Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Ratchet in the doorway. He knew his optics were wide and surprise covered his faceplate but that didn’t stop Prowl from trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for being compromisingly close to a prisoner.

His mouth opened and closed several times before sound came out. “Sir, it’s not…I mean I was just…”

Optimus Prime’s hand came up and Prowl stopped trying to talk. “We have been aware of your relationship for some time.”

Prowl felt the silence in his processor, recognized it as a precursor to one of his shutdowns. He willed the annoying glitch away; this was embarrassing enough without collapsing. Ratchet stepped further into the room, easily identifying Prowl’s issue.

Meister asked the question that should have been foremost on his mind. “How?”

“Prowl told us.” Ratchet replied.

Prowl shared a confused look with Meister. They had worked extremely hard to keep their relationship secret from both sides.

“He began doing things he hadn’t before.”

Prowl frowned. “Such as?”

“Ya took time off.” Ironhide replied.

“Red Alert noticed a change in your behavior and brought his concerns to me.” Optimus Prime said. “When you applied for leave we decided to monitor you.”

“When was this?” Prowl’s processor raced as he recalled the most recent absence he had taken.

There was an almost awkward silence between them until Ratchet crossed his arms and said. “You went to Altihex.”

Prowl’s optics widened and Meister coughed a few times before letting go and breaking into gales of laughter. Unable to look at his leader directly in the optic, Prowl stared at the wall instead. Of course it had to be Altihex. They hadn’t seen each other in two orns and their reunion had been highly affectionate and more than a little inappropriate for public.

Meister was still laughing as he spoke. “That was a great city. I loved bein’ there.”

“We saw.” Ironhide growled which set off Meister’s laughter again.

Prowl tightened his hand around Meister’s fingers in a silent request for control. Silver optics flicked to his and the laughter eased off.

“So, what are ya planning to do about it? There has to be a reason ya droppin’ by before ya shut my spark down.”

Prime stepped towards the berth, Ironhide close behind him. Ratchet had already taken a place at the control console and was fiddling with something there that Prowl couldn’t see.

“Have you stopped your terrorizing habits, Meister?”

Shoulder plating adjusted slightly in a restrained shrug. “I still like to blow things up.”

“Indiscriminately or for a purpose?”

Meister’s optics narrowed at the Prime and Prowl felt him tense. “I limit my indulgences.”

“That does not answer the question.”

Meister’s gaze was appraising, as was Optimus Prime’s. Silence reigned for several seconds before Meister spoke again. “I won’t attack anything that would upset Prowl.”

“Have you done so to aid him?”

Silence again. “Yes.”

Prowl stared at his lover as he felt the brooding gaze of Ironhide on him. This was the first he had heard of Meister being involved with anything that had to do with him outside their private lives. He certainly hadn’t shared any sensitive information with the ex-Decepticon in the entire time they had been in contact. No personnel or mission files had been available to Meister, even during their interfacing sessions.

 “What did you do?” The question left his lips before he was aware of it.

Meister’s optics returned to his. “I removed a few obstacles. Decepticon officers, double agents, assassins, admirers.”

Prowl automatically dismissed the last one. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Ya wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Of course not. You put yourself in danger needlessly. I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“But ya shouldn’t have to if I can do something about it. An’ isn’t it better when I’m handlin’ ya?” Meister smirked, his brow waggling suggestively.

 Prowl resisted rolling his optics at the incorrigible mech. He wasn’t surprised that Meister would make such a comment with the Prime in the room. “That does not weigh into this issue.”

Meister’s smile widened. “I love it when ya get mad at me.”

“You’d be the only one.” Ironhide quipped, seemingly no longer concerned about Optimus Prime’s safety.

“I’m happy wit that.”

Prowl covered his face with the hand not still wrapped around Meister’s. His logic center was starting to overheat in a mildly uncomfortable way. It simply defied Prowl’s thinking that he could possibly be in this situation; in a room with Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Ratchet while holding hands with an ex-Decepticon spy as he bantered with Ironhide….

The shut-down heralding silence had returned and Prowl focused on the joining lines in the wall as he fought back the processor stall. The general noise of the room soon returned to normal volume just in time for Prowl to hear Optimus Prime’s next spark-halting words.

“I’ve heard what I need to. Ratchet, please prepare for the procedure.”

Prowl spark went cold, his gaze snapping over to where Ratchet was smirking at him. That was it? They had exposed Prowl’s relationship and now they would just shut his lover off? Why was Ratchet smiling like that?

Meister’s fingers tightened around his and Prowl looked down into silver optics. Concern stared back at him and Prowl’s spark jolted in pain. How long had they been fighting to avoid this very situation? It seemed like an eternity that they had been hiding their affection from everyone.

Prowl only looked up when his leader was standing across from him. Prime’s optics were compassionate and Prowl felt a bubble of hope form in his spark.

“Meister, I am going to offer you an opportunity. It will never be made again and the knowledge of it will never leave this room.”

Meister’s silver optics flashed to Prowl’s face and they exchanged a curious look.

“During the course of your relationship I have observed a change in Prowl’s behavior, and although I believe change is good I also feel that if separated so definitively Prowl will return to his former demeanor, if not become worse.”

Prowl controlled the indignant frown that reflexively threatened to show on his faceplate, he understood what Prime was saying and even agreed with it. Hadn’t he informed Meister that he would close himself off from the world after today?

Optimus Prime continued. “Your career is well documented and we believe your skill set would be invaluable to the Autobots.”

“Are ya offerin’ me a job, Prime?” Meister asked, his mouth twisted in disbelieving humor.

Prowl was almost surprised that a similar expression wasn’t on his face. Was Optimus Prime truly going to offer Meister a free pass into the Autobot ranks? It was unheard of!

“Under severe restrictions. You would cease to be ‘Meister’ a new name and form would be found for you. Today ‘Meister’ deactivates permanently. Under no circumstance will you ever be able to admit to being ‘Meister’ or you will find yourself back in this chamber. We would require you to undergo training like any other recruit and you will be under constant observation until we decide you are no longer a threat.”

Meister scoffed. “Is that likely to happen?”

“Probably not.” Ironhide replied. “Since I’ll be the one watching ya.”

“Psychological assessments will be necessary as well.” Prime continued as if the pair hadn’t interrupted. “Finally, and most importantly, I offer this under the promise that a Bond will be created between you.”

Prowl felt the slackness in his faceplates as he understood what Prime was saying. Meister could stay functional if he defected and they bonded. Panic swamped his system as logic subroutines worked to help him through the situation. He had considered bonding to Meister but not so suddenly, in a few vorns maybe they would have discussed it and several more after that they might have actually finalized their commitment. That was the way it had worked in Prowl’s head, not like this.

Had he looked down Prowl would have seen Meister smile happily and nod slowly to Prime. As it was, Prowl was pulled from his stupor by Meister’s fingers tugging at his. He shifted his gaze from Prime to his lover, staring into those stunning silver optics and felt his spark pulse sharply.

“Will ya Bond with me, handsome? Make an Autobot outta me?”

Something clicked in Prowl’s chest, chasing away the panic that made him want to flee. A feeling of ‘right’ settled over his spark and he allowed one of his rare smiles to emerge.

“I will.”

“Not yet you won’t.” Prime said, interrupting the moment.

Prowl looked up at his leader in confusion. “Sir? I thought that was the agreement.”

“Meister will have to prove that he is dedicated without you backing him up. Once his training and assessments are complete then you can solidify your Bond. I won’t have my Second in Command Bonded to a potential threat.”

Prowl locked optics with Meister again, this time uncertainty stared back at him and Prowl tightened his fingers around Meister’s in support.

 

 

Prowl winced as he watched Meister’s former body slowly sink into the smelting pit. He knew that Meister lived, his spark and neural centre had been carefully harvested from his body and prepared for transport, but seeing the grey form being irrevocably destroyed was more than a little disconcerting.

Once the body had completely disappeared, Prowl turned the recording off and prepped the video package to be sent to the Decepticons.

He looked back one last time at the bubbling pool of molten metal before leaving the chamber. It would be a long time before he saw Meister again, or whomever Meister turned into. Prime had told him he couldn’t know as that might compromise the ex-Decepticon’s conversion into an Autobot. He merely had to wait until his lover appeared again.

It was a good thing he had patience to spare.

 

 

EXTRA

Optimus Prime frowned behind his battlemask as he waited for Ironhide to appear with Ratchet. Once the security systems turned off in the execution chamber a backup system would activate and the cameras in front of him would start displaying what was happening inside.

And the security within the room would be deactivated, Prime was certain of that. Prowl’s carefully hidden romance with the Decepticon Meister had been a surprise no one had seen coming. It had been disturbing to think his most trusted lieutenant was fraternizing with an enemy agent, most concerning of all was that Prowl contained extremely sensitive information in his CPU. An experienced hacker and saboteur like Meister wouldn’t have too much trouble accessing it.

The door opened and Ironhide ushered Ratchet inside. The medic looking around in confusion at the bare room until he saw Optimus standing in front of the bank of monitors.

“Optimus, what is going on? I was in the middle of training First Aid, the Protectobots will be shipping out soon and I want him ready.”

“I understand, Ratchet, however we have a more immediate situation to deal with.” Optimus replied. “Do you recall me asking you about spark transfers?”

“Of course.” Ratchet huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “The procedure is still extremely dangerous. Probability of full recovery is sixty-five percent, and that’s in a strong spark.”

Optimus nodded. “I believe we will have to consider the option.”

“For who?”

As if they were being watched by Primus, the bank of monitors lit up. Optimus turned to face the bright screens as he heard Ratchet’s quiet exclamation behind him. Prowl stepped up to the berth, he was looking down at the chained Decepticon as he spoke. Prime didn’t need to hear what was being said at this point and left the volume control at low. He winced internally at the degree of damage done to Meister during his interrogation.

“What happened? When was he caught?”

“Meister was found at the edge of Iacon’s territory. He was captured and restrained with minimum damage done to the arresting Autobots.”

“And I can assume his current state was thanks to Ironhide’s heavy handed interrogation methods.” Ratchet gestured at a monitor angrily. “Why wasn’t I called to seal up at least some of the injuries?”

“He was marked to be executed. Didn’ think we needed a medic to fix him up before we shut him down.” Ironhide responded as he cracked his joints slowly.

“I did not call you in here to discuss the ethical treatment of prisoners.” Prime said sternly. “We have a decision to make regarding Prowl.”

All three sets of optics focused on the screens as Prowl’s hand moved from Meister’s cheek to his body, presumably inspecting the wounds inflicted by Ironhide and Volt.

“We need to decide if it is worthwhile keeping Meister online.”

“In the brig?” ironhide asked.

“No, you idiot.” Ratchet groused. “As a brand new mech. Prime wants me to do a spark transfer. Do you think it would be worth it, Optimus?”

 He looked between his two longtime friends and back to the monitors. Prowl was leaning over Meister, clearly discussing something serious.

“I don’t like the chances of Prowl taking the loss of his partner hard. He has become more approachable over the last vorn and it would be unacceptable to me not to consider his happiness at this time.”

Ironhide gaped. “You’d consider letting a violent mech like Meister free just to keep Prowl happy?”

“He lets a violent mech like you run free.” Ratchet retorted. “Where’s the difference?”

Optimus ignored the banter. He saw the way Ratchet was watching the pair on screen, he had obviously seen the same thing Optimus had. The change in Prowl had started slowly, almost reluctantly, but it had grown steadily. Prime had seen him smile at one of Sideswipe’s jokes only an orn ago.

“In the short term a mech as emotionally restrictive as Prowl will retreat and no doubt become more difficult to deal with. Long term, he’ll be fine. But by long term, I’m talking forty to fifty vorns minimum.”

“How difficult will he be, do you think?”

Ratchet pursed his lips for a moment. “Consider what Prowl was like two vorns back and multiply it by two-hundred percent. If you’re deactivating Meister today I want a transfer.”

Optimus scowled and saw Ironhide wince. This was worse than he’d thought, Prowl was an integral part of the Autobot command core and he needed his Second in Command to be fit and stable. A mech like Meister had helped develop Prowl’s social skills and without that mech around anymore…

“If they agree I would like you to perform a spark transfer.”

“I would have to get some equipment from my lab but I could do the extraction today. You understand that I’ll have to go with him. Crystal City would be the best place to recreate him.”

Optimus nodded. “I understand. Get what you need, we will wait for you.”

Ratchet smirked and left the room. Ironhide moved to stand next to him, they both watched the monitors.

“I’m not sure letting him loose in the army is a good idea.”

“He won’t be. I want you to watch him while he’s at basic training.”

Ironhide looked startled. “Basic training? This bot has single handedly brought down entire battalions.”

“I am well read on Meister’s file. What I want is for him to be completely integrated into the Autobots. He will need to fight his way back to Iacon and prove that it was worth our time and investment before we allow him near Prowl again.”

“Ya separating them? I thought Ratchet said he’d get worse.”

“I’m not going to separate them permanently. Just long enough for Meister to establish himself as an Autobot. If he can’t then we remove him.”

Ironhide nodded and Optimus suspected he supported the harsher angle of the plan. Meister had caused major upsets throughout the war and had become suspiciously quiet of late. If he brought up the files he was sure he’d see a correlation between Prowl’s improved attitude and Meister’s drop in attacks.

Optimus averted his optics as Prowl kissed Meister. It wasn’t something he wanted to see after what he’d seen from Altihex. That had been an optic-opening experience.

They had hoped to find out what had prompted the change in Prowl’s behavior but were instead witnessed a reunion of lovers. Prowl had been standing alone in a courtyard one moment, the next he had a silver form jumping on him. The surveillance drone watching them had continued to record as a highly affectionate Meister encouraged Prowl to kiss him passionately out in public. It was soon apparent that the two mechs had forgotten where they were as hands started to roam. Optimus had stopped the footage at that point, not wanting to see his Second in such a manner. Ironhide had been shocked but Ratchet had pouted and demanded he turn it on again.

“Prime.” Ironhide’s voice was curt.

Optimus looked back to see Prowl backing away from Meister, his doorwings twitching in agitation. He flicked a switch and the volume rose.

_“Prowl, I’m sorry. Come back over here.”_

They exchanged a look of surprise at the gentle tone of voice. The only sound he had heard come from Meister was a deranged cackle.

  _“Dammit, Prowl! Get over here.”_

Optimus watched as Prowl jerked his head up and moved slowly back to the berth. His optics were slightly unfocused until he was standing next to Meister.

  _“Ya said ya wouldn’ leave me.”_

Optimus’ spark ached at the emotionally strained voice. He understood now why Prowl had offered to observe the interrogation and be present at the execution. Prowl loved Meister and it was very obvious that Meister reciprocated. Optimus felt that he was making the right choice.

He turned off the sound again as sharp knock came through the door. Ironhide ushered Ratchet inside with a compact machine wheeled behind him.

“I hope you’re sure about this, Prime. I just had to leave my medbay in the hands of two apprentice medics. You’d better not plan on going into fight until I get back.”

“I will endeavor to place this war on hold until you have returned to reattach whatever body part Megatron blows off me next.”

Ratchet glared at him darkly and set up his machine. “I’m going to have to use the sedative already in the chamber. I will disable the other components so he does not accidentally deactivate…that said, Ironhide, stay away from the control panel.”

Ironhide flipped Ratchet a rude hand gesture and crossed his arms. Optimus was glad that his battlemask was in place as he could never control his smile when these two harassed each other.

Regaining composure, Optimus shut down the monitors. “Let’s go.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

A non-descript transport shuttled thundered across the Iacon border from the west, its cargo considered sensitive as only as only life can be. Two teams of bots sat inside, comparing notes from their last outpost training facility and trading stories. All were eager to finally get off the transport at their final stop, one mech in particular was barely able to keep his seat in excitement.

Jazz grinned happily as he gazed at the growing structure of Iacon. From this distance it was still just a mass on the horizon but Jazz could imagine the towering spires and shining buildings contained inside the dome of the city he had only been in once. That had been a long time ago, another life.

His spark jolted in his chest as he thought of how close he was to Prowl now. He hadn’t been this close to Iacon in vorns. Ten to be exact, his mission had brought him to the edge of the territory and it had taken all of his willpower to keep moving instead of speeding into the heart of the city. Ten vorn since he’d seen Iacon, sixteen since he’d last seen Prowl.

He’d been stripped from his body and transported to the medical center in Crystal City. Time had passed in a blur for the unnamed mech then; orns spent designing and creating a body appropriate for his future as an Autobot followed by vorns of training amongst the new recruits and those recovering from trauma. That had been Jazz’s cover, trauma victim from the attack on Tarn.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” The pilot, a mech named Dash, said quietly.

“Yep, sure is.” Jazz replied.

“Have you been to Iacon before?”

Jazz shook his head. “Not in this lifetime.”

He patted the pilot’s shoulder and climbed from the navigator’s chair, with Iacon in visual range he wouldn’t be necessary for a while. Jazz grabbed a small rationed energon cube and joined the mechs in the back, needing a distraction to pass the next few joors it would take to reach Iacon’s city limits.

He dropped down next to Sideswipe. “What’s the assignment, mechs?”

“We’re heading straight to Ironhide. Advanced combat training.” The red soldier replied smugly, gesturing towards his brightly coloured twin.

Jazz controlled the shudder that threatened; he still had mixed feelings towards Ironhide. He was never sure if he wanted to thank him or shoot him in the face.

Hound leaned forward. “I’m for Spec. Ops. Mirage, around here somewhere, is too.”

That surprised Jazz. “I would’ve thought ya’d be with the operations and defence teams.”

“I was meant to be but my ability to create holoforms that can hold independently for joors made them reconsider.”

Jazz nodded, he could see why the Special Operations department wanted skills like that at their disposal. He could also see Hound being loaned out among the departments depending on who needed him the most.

“Where are you going?”

Jazz grinned. “I’m liaising between Ops. and tactical. Mostly I’ll be working with Nightshade an’ Prowl.”

Sunstreaker hissed and Sideswipe winced. The sentiment was echoed by almost all of the mechs that Jazz knew to have been in Iacon more recently than himself.

“What?”

Sideswipe gave him a pitying glance. “No one really knows much about Nightshade but Prowl is a pain in the tailpipe. He used to be alright, emotionless and boring but alright. Now he’s more…..”

“He’s a glitch.” Sunstreaker finished for him.

“What d’ya mean?” Jazz asked, worry spreading through his processor. Had something happened to Prowl since they’d parted?

Sideswipe hesitated, seeming to think about what he wanted to say. Which would have been a first for the mouthy frontliner. “He’s hard, there’s no allowance for mistakes in his command.”

“He’s a tactician and Second in Command, surely he has to be like that.”

“Nope, he used to give at least a little leeway.” Sunstreaker replied. “He used to have emotions too, would even crack a smile occasionally but I haven’t heard of that happening in vorns. He’s nothing but work and rules.”

“I heard he was bonded and the mech died.” One of the minibots Jazz didn’t know piped up.

“That’s stupid, Prowl’d be dead if his Bondmate deactivated.” Cliffjumper retorted.

“It would explain why he’s so mean; I mean if he survived a Bondmate’s death.” The minibot argued.

Jazz frowned behind his visor, the one thing he’d kept from his previous life. Prowl had warned him that he would throw himself into his work but Jazz assumed that he would come out of it eventually.

The need to see his lover increased until Jazz was practically vibrating in his seat. He wanted to hold Prowl again, stroke his doorwings, see that small smile that would appear and disappear again so quickly.

But how would he do it? Clearly he couldn’t just waltz into Prowl’s office and announce who he was, that would bring down all sorts of trouble if anyone heard and would look kind of odd if a brand new transfer suddenly started groping the extremely serious Second in Command.

Jazz frowned again. It would be so much easier if Prowl knew who he was, but he didn’t. Jazz had been banned from contacting Prowl at all during his training and assignments. He truly doubted that the Autobot Commander had told Prowl about the mech his previous lover had become. They had made this a challenge for both of them and Jazz had risen to meet it gladly.

Now that the moment of their reunion was coming closer, Jazz wasn’t sure what to expect. From what these bots had said, Prowl had changed significantly from the mech Jazz had left behind. Could he bring his lover back to him? Could he prove who he was?

That thought had sent cold lancing through his spark on numerous occasions over the last sixteen vorns. It would disturb his recharge and distract him on missions. Once, he had almost lost an arm because of his side-tracked thoughts.

Ratchet had yelled at him something fierce after that. As forever grateful as Jazz would be to the medic, having him scream a lecture at him while having a partially amputated arm reattached wasn’t a pleasant experience. Ratchet, aside from Ironhide, was the only mech he saw that knew who he used to be. Ratchet was also the only mech who would give him updates on Prowl, but the medic had never mentioned a change in Prowl’s behaviour.

Lost in his thoughts, Jazz was reasonably surprised when a shoulder bumped into him. He looked up to see Sideswipe grinning at him.

“Don’t let us scare you. Prowl’s fine so long as you don’t glue his datapads to his desk. That gets you four cycles in the brig.”

“Also, don’t loosen the bolts in his chair, or disable the retractable panels.” Sunstreaker added.

“Don’t change the security codes on the store rooms, alter the housing plan or mess with the patrol roster.” Sideswipe ticked them off on his fingers.

“Don’t touch _any_ of the rosters.” Sunstreaker said with a glare at his twin.

Jazz laughed. “Ya did all this to him? No wonder he’s a glitch to ya.”

The twins smirked at him, Sideswipe’s held more than a hint of pride.

Sunstreaker slid a narrow glare at his brother and added. “Stay away from Bluestreak as well.”

Sideswipe tensed momentarily and returned the dark look.

Jazz’s interest rose. “Who’s Bluestreak?”

“Prowl’s assistant.” Sideswipe replied. “Junior tactician with big blue optics and molestable doorwings.”

Hound chuckled at the description while Sunstreaker continued to give them a warning glare. “Prowl’s rather protective of him.”

Jazz smiled. Sounded like his Prowl had found another Praxian to hang out with, not that Prowl ever just ‘hung out’. He’d probably be working while the other mech talked at him. The visual made Jazz smile more.

“I’ll be sure not to annoy the mech and leave his buddy alone.” Jazz assured the pair. “I’ll probably be too busy for a while to do anything but recharge.”

“You’re not alone there.” Hound agreed.

“Jazz might not be alone at all.” A disembodied voice came from above them.

“Raj, how many time do ya have to be told not ta do that around friendlies?” Jazz groused. It was a pet peeve that he couldn’t immediately detect the spy.

The blue and white mech appeared, reclining in the storage bay above their heads. His noble features carried a decidedly amused expression.

Jazz was about to berate the mech for his invisibility again, and hopefully change the subject, but the Twins perked up and Jazz knew the damage had been done.

“Got your optic on an Iaconian mech, huh Jazz?”

Jazz sent Mirage a privately coded, death promising message before answering. “None o’ya business.”

“Oh, come on. There wasn’t one rumour about you floating around any of the outposts….give us some goss.” Sideswipe pleaded.

Jazz shook his head. “There ain’t any rumours b’cause I keep my business private.”

In fact there were no rumours because Jazz hadn’t interfaced with this body yet. He’d had offers from some very attractive bots along the way but he had decidedly chosen to wait and let Prowl be the one to break him in. A warmth settled around his spark as memories emerged from his time as Meister. He shut them down before he got himself into trouble.

He shot the lounging mech a warning glare. Mirage was the only one who knew of his love for Prowl, he had found a mildly over-charged Jazz talking to himself one night. Slagger had used the information to blackmail his way onto some of Jazz’s teams more than once.

The expressions on the Twins, and almost everyone else, told Jazz this subject wasn’t about to be dropped anytime soon. He’d suffer it for a little longer before retreating back to his seat in the cockpit.

 

Jazz rolled his shoulders and popped a few cricks out of his neck as he ran a shut down on the ship’s systems and the mechs in the back disembarked. Excitement bubbled up in his spark so much that he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He was back in Iacon and, if the transmission he’d just received was right, Prowl was outside waiting for him. Well, not him especially but to induct the transferring mechs into the city.

Jazz allowed Dash to precede him from the cramped cockpit and used the extra few moments to compose himself. The back was now empty and Jazz moved with his usual grace and flair through the space built to carry over a hundred mechs with ease. A cool breeze came through the open hatch and Jazz smiled a little more as his plating was caressed.

He stepped from the transport just behind Dash, he could see the bots they’d brought scattered over the courtyard and at the far end he could just see Optimus Prime’s head. His spark pulsed sharply, beating a frantic rhythm in his chest. That was where Prowl would be.

Jazz called his thanks to Dash, who’d be picking up some mechs and ferrying them to another posting, and moved through the crowd. Even from here he could hear the Prime’s commanding voice welcoming them all. Jazz’s didn’t really pay attention to what was being said until the voice changed. It was a gorgeous deep voice that carried little inflection but conveyed authority. He stopped in his tracks, still too far away to see the mech, he just wanted to listen.

“Look, Sunny. Just the sound of Prowl has scared him stiff.”

Jazz turned slightly to see Sideswipe and Sunstreaker off to his left. They were watching him with amusement. Jazz grinned back at them, feeling more relaxed than he had in vorns knowing he was so close to his Prowl.

“Ya bots should be listenin’.”

Sunstreaker shrugged. “Nothing we haven’t heard before.”

Jazz nodded in agreement, it wasn’t anything new. It was the same speech that you got upon entering any base. Safety protocols, evacuation points, defence positions, etc. Only this time the words were being said by Prowl and that made all the difference to Jazz.

There had been cycles during his training that he would have given everything he had, meagre as that was, just to hear Prowl’s voice or see his face. Now all his long vorns of suffering would be repaid. He’d fulfil the promise he’d made to Optimus Prime for his continued existence. He’d Bond with Prowl, Primus help the bot who tried to stop him.

He had a plan. A plan very similar to the one he’d used to get Prowl’s attention in the first place….okay, it was the same plan but it had worked for a Decepticon, why couldn’t it work for an Autobot?

Jazz pushed to the front of the crowd, desperate now to catch a glimpse of his love. He emerged in front of Prime and to the left of centre stage where Prowl stood. His optics locked onto the proud arch of his doorwings and a shiver of want went through him. Prowl was still addressing the crowd, allowing Jazz time to indulge and study his long lost mate.

He hadn’t changed physically; he still had the same paintwork and armour, his doorwings were pristine and held high. His fingers itched to run over them. His gaze worked up to Prowl’s face and he paused. Prowl looked a lot harder than he used to be, there was a tenseness in his jaw Jazz had only seen when he was angry. His optics, once a sweet refreshing blue, were now cold and hard.

What in the Pits had happened to Prowl!?

Jazz adjusted his gaze, unsure of what to do with this overt change in his love. The Twins hadn’t been wrong, in fact he suspected the issue was far worse than anyone on the ship knew.

The induction closed down and the transfers were directed to their barracks and postings. As an officer, Jazz was entitled to quarters in the central building and since he was pretending he had never been in Iacon before, he had to wait for a guide.

“Jazz, it’s nice to finally have you in Iacon.”

He turned swiftly and looked up and up. Jazz briefly wished he’d designed something with a bit more height.

“Thank’s Prime. Ya have a nice city here.”

Optimus Prime’s optics softened. “We do what we can. I understand you’ll be running interference between Tactical and Special Operations.”

Jazz nodded. “Yep.”

“A step back from your previous endeavours.”

“Nah, just a different kind a challenge. Probably have less chance of bein’ killed babysittn’ the bots here.” Jazz got the impression that Optimus was smiling and grinned back. “I guess I should be askin’ where to put my bags. Seein’ as I’ve never been in ya fair city before.”

Optimus Prime nodded and looked around, Jazz did the same. He saw Ironhide smirking at him and felt the urge to punch him rise. That slagger had been dogging his footsteps ever since he’d woken up in his new body. There were a few others left in the courtyard but Prowl was not one of them.

Swivelling his head around, Jazz managed to catch a glimpse of Prowl’s back and doorwings as he entered a building. Disappointment hit him hard in the spark. He hadn’t expected Prowl to recognize him but he could have at least shown some professional courtesy and introduced himself.

Jazz scoffed internally, amused that he was even thinking of ‘professional courtesy’ when only a few joors ago he was contemplating how he was going to take Prowl against his desk.

“Let’s go to my office first and discuss your task here before you retire to your quarters.”

Jazz nodded and followed his new leader. He would deal with Prowl later; he’d already spent sixteen vorns creating and cementing his new persona and reputation, he could wait another couple of cycles before starting his campaign to win back Prowl’s spark.

00—00—00—00—00—00

“Jazz.”

He whipped around to see Nightshade coming up the hallway.

“Hey mech, long time no see.”

Nightshade, Director of Special and Clandestine Operations, smiled. “It’s good to see you. I have to say, I was surprised when the Prime told me you were transferring. I thought you had a good deal out in Kalis.”

“Yeah, I did, but on to bigger an’ better things. Iacon’s the place to be.”

“And you do like being in the centre of the action.”

Jazz laughed, pleased that he’d run into Nightshade so early. He liked Nightshade; they had worked together on several projects out of Kalis. The mech was quiet and more interested in watching the bots around him than joining whatever activity was happening.

Jazz thought the similarity to Prowl was what made him so comfortable with the other mech. His Prowler was more inclined to stand back than contribute unnecessarily. His spark ached as he thought of Prowl; he missed the mech even more now that they were so close again.

“Can’ help but be me’self. So, I’m guessing ya volunteered to show me around?”

“Actually I came to speak to Optimus Prime but I think that can wait for now. We have some catching up to do.” Nightshade smiled and waved his hand to motion Jazz forward. “Now, tell me, did you have a hand in the explosion of Helex’s armaments?”

“I might have been in the area, might not.” Jazz replied knowing full well that Nightshade was read in on most of his missions.

“I thought I detected your flair, you have a unique style.”

Jazz’s grin widened and he preened. It was nice to have his work praised. Helex had been a slagger of a job to complete too; he almost hadn’t made it out before the explosion. The base medic, First Aid, had lectured him as he’d treated the burns and melted components. From the way the bot had been talking, Jazz suspected he’d been trained by Ratchet.

Jazz followed Nightshade through the base, making a mental map until he had a chance to download one. He was reading a plaque on a wall dedicated to fallen soldiers when Nightshade called out.

“Ah, Prowl. Have you met our liaison yet?”

Jazz turned and felt a funny jolt in his chest as his optics landed on the approaching mech. Prowl’s face was closed, every line held with rigid control and Jazz just wanted to jump on him. His circuitry tingled as his spark pumped extra energy through his system in its eagerness to be near Prowl.

“I have not. Although I remain curious as to why we require a liaison now when we have not previously.”

Jazz almost shivered in delight as that voice flowed over his audio sensors.

Nightshade smirked. “I suppose Prime just wants someone to keep us on track.”

One of Prowl’s brows twitched and Jazz restrained himself from reaching up and smoothing it out.

“I ain’t that bad, mechs.” Jazz said.

Prowl turned his optics on him and Jazz saw something flicker in their depths.

 His spark surged, does he know? Can he tell it’s me? They had touched sparks only a handful of times during their more uninhibited moments but it had forged a fledgling link between them. Jazz’s end of the link thrummed with remembered sensations. A slight crease appeared on Prowl’s faceplates as they watched each other. Jazz drank in the sight of his lover, all that smooth metal moulded to the most perfect angles. Jazz was pleased his optics were hidden from showing all the love and need that was spilling out of them at the moment

He smiled casually. “It’s a pleasure to meetcha, Prowl.”

“Indeed.” He returned to looking at Nightshade and Jazz felt himself deflate. “Please excuse me; I have a meeting I would prefer not to be late for.”

“Of course, Prowl.” Nightshade stepped out of his way and Prowl disappeared around a corner.

Jazz stared at the wall where Prowl had gone. “Is he always so talkative?”

“That was positively friendly for Prowl. Usually the new transfers get a glare.” Nightshade replied as they began walking again.

Jazz frowned under his visor as he followed Nightshade into his office. The room was spacious if sparse, the only furniture being a desk and a couple of chairs. The walls were lined with shelves, each one full of files that would get a lower ranked mech killed for peeking at. Jazz made himself comfortable in the visitors chair while Nightshade eased down into the cushier seat opposite him.

“Prowl has a point, though. We haven’t needed a liaison before; frankly I’m curious why you’re here as well.” Nightshade pinned him with a look as Jazz froze. “While you’re telling me that you can also explain what it was I just saw with Prowl.”

“I’m not sure what ya talkin’ about.”

“If you are going to lie to me, Jazz, at least go to the effort of making it convincing. I may not be in the field anymore but I can still spot a mech that’s keeping secrets. And you, my friend, carry more secrets than you know what to do with. I have been investigating this since I heard you were being transferred here to take up a position that didn’t exist.”

Jazz stared, he had nothing. Optimus Prime hadn’t mentioned that the role he was taking wasn’t an existing one and now Nightshade was on to him…Damn. Scrap. Frag! How was he going to get out of this? Nightshade was incredibly smart and playing him as a fool would only get Jazz in all kinds of trouble. Best get this as close to the truth as possible.

“Okay, I’m doin’ some private work for Prime. He needs me here in a spot where I’m involved and not sent out on assignments.”

“Your investigation concerns Ops or tactical? Or both?”

It concerns Prowl and those sexy doorwings.

Jazz stilled, hoping he hadn’t accidentally whispered his thought out loud. “Ya askin’ for details on an open investigation.”

“I’m looking to keep my mechs safe.”

“I’m not here to dig up dirt. I know better than most what we’re capable of. I’m just after some information.”

“Does that information relate to Prowl?”

“Details, Nightshade.” Jazz replied before leaning forward. “Though I wouldn’ mind gettin’ to know Prowl, if ya know what I mean.”

Nightshade leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “By the way his doorwings were twitching while you were optic-facing each other, I don’t think he’d mind getting to know you right back.”

Optic-facing? Really? Did that mean Prowl had shown a reaction to him? Jazz’s spark sang in triumph.

Jazz let some interest grow on his face. “I must have been watching the wrong conversation. I hardly call meetin’ the new mech ‘optic-facing’, not that I wouldn’ be open t’ it.”

Nightshade smirked. “Usually I would agree with you, however I have worked with Prowl for a long time and I’m probably one of the few that he might count as a friend. I haven’t seen him have that reaction to a bot in a long time. You’re a mystery that is compelling me to dig.”

Jazz fell silent, it wasn’t a state he necessarily liked but right now he had to be careful with what he said. Nightshade was closer than anyone had ever been to finding out Jazz had more than the usual protoforms in his closet.

“Optimus Prime has requested that I do some investigations for him.” Jazz said carefully. “I was placed as a ‘liaison’ since you and I have history. Nothing more sinister. Prowl and I have never met before.” A sly smile grew on his lips. “But I’d be very interested in whatever ya could tell me so I could get closer to him.”

Nightshade snorted and shook his head but didn’t ask any further questions. Jazz relaxed slightly but not by much, he didn’t want Nightshade looking into his or Prowl’s past. His past stopped at Crystal City, the flimsy backstory wouldn’t hold up under too much pressure and Jazz couldn’t risk being discovered as Meister and he really didn’t want to have to kill Nightshade.

Jazz turned the conversation away from dangerous territory, towards the current active assignments Nightshade had going. The Ops leader took the cue and followed, filling Jazz in on the missions and the work they were doing with the tactical department. They stayed on topic for some time, Jazz putting forward his ideas and debating with Nightshade how they would be best put into action.

His interest increased as he began to understand the formula Nightshade used to put together his assignments. Jazz could easily see himself adding his helping hand when necessary should Nightshade need it. Nightshade explained the situation he would be walking into but Jazz laughed his concerns off, he didn’t think he’d need to walk on ped-tips around Prowl and his department.

00—00—00—00—00—00

Jazz glared into his cube. Frustration had prompted him to find a cube of high-grade and try and sort out his processor. He needed a new plan, his current one wasn’t working. Two orns had passed and he was no closer to revealing himself to Prowl than he was the day he arrived.

His assumption that Prowl would come around and notice him had turned out to be wrong…No, not just wrong. Fabulously wrong. Amazingly wrong.

Prowl hadn’t spared him a glance outside their regular meetings. He had thought Prowl would seek him out after their initial meeting, maybe be curious about him, Nightshade had said he didn’t react to anyone.

He swirled the liquid slowly, Jazz was certain he’d go insane soon if nothing continued to happen. His confidence had taken a blow when he couldn’t even get Prowl to talk to him socially, never mind respond to his flirting. The mech seemed ingrained in his work with little outside interests…for the first time in a long time Jazz felt lost. He had no desire to keep throwing himself at a mech who refused to see he was still alive.

At the same time he was angry. Prowl had promised him to stop being so introverted. He had promised to make friends and from what jazz could see he had made two and wasn’t interested in increasing that number.

The only way Jazz had learned anything about his estranged lover was from his assistant, Bluestreak. The young Praxian had been more than happy to relate all he could about Prowl when Jazz had shown his interest in getting to know him. He could see Bluestreak was also concerned about Prowl’s isolation and for that care Jazz would be eternally grateful. He might even reward the little mech by getting him some alone time with the Twins one of these days.

It wasn’t hard to see that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s fascination was returned by the smaller mech but Bluestreak was kept closely protected by Prowl and another Praxian.

Jazz groaned as his schedule chimed at him; he had another meeting with Prowl in a joor. Jazz looked into the energon cube and wondered idly if he could successfully drown himself in what was left.

He’d endured one tedious meeting after another with the one or both of the mechs and Jazz could understand why Prime would want to have a third party there to move them along. Nightshade and Prowl could talk. Endlessly. Not in the way Bluestreak did but still they managed to almost put Jazz into recharge as they carefully debated the best way to achieve their goals.

Not even Jazz’s most ingrained upbeat attitude had been enough to survive the endless discussion of percentages and rates of success. He had copped a decidedly nasty glare from Prowl when he dared suggest that seventy-two percent was good enough; Prowl had stated that eighty-seven percent was the lowest he would accept.

Jazz lowered his head to the table. All his emotional ups and downs dealing with Prowl had him exhausted. He couldn’t stop the happy whirling of his spark every time he saw his lover and yet that was almost always squashed by Prowl’s dismissal of him.

His comm. unit pinged and he answered it without removing his head from the table. “Jazz here.”

: _Jazz, would you be available for a few joors?:_ Nightshade asked.

“I have a meetin’ wit Prowl in a joor. Ya got somethin’ that’ll get me outta it?”

Nightshade laughed. _:I need a mech to show the newbies some manoeuvres.:_

Jazz straightened and rolled his neck. “What sort o’ manoeuvres?”

: _The kind that makes you wish you lived behind a desk.:_

He grinned in anticipation. Those were the best sort; he could fall back on his Decepticon past and no one twitched an optic. “I’m ya mech. Give me a few breems to get my gear together.”

Jazz knocked back the last of his high-grade and stood, the extra energy in the liquid that usually led to being overcharged was spreading through him in preparation for the gruelling ‘games’ he was headed to.

00—00—00—00—00—00

Prowl could feel the small frown forming between his brows. He usually would smooth out his faceplates to project an unruffled image, that he was frowning at all was a testament to how annoyed he was.

The liaison had failed to attend their scheduled meeting. Prowl had waited patiently as he knew what the Special Operations mechs could be like, yet when more than half a joor passed without any communication from the mech he had begun to get annoyed.

The liaison, as Prowl preferred to think of him, had demonstrated a range of behaviours since his arrival in Iacon. He was spontaneous and unpredictable, not a quality Prowl enjoyed but he could understand that it was an essential skill for the mechs in the liaison’s field.

That a Spec.Ops mech had been chosen for the position he was in now had surprised Prowl. Normally he would have expected Optimus Prime to select a bot with more administrative experience. The liaison had surprised him again with the level of understanding he had for organizing mechs. Nightshade had informed him that the liaison had been in a command position in Kalis, a black ops situation, but that his skills were easily transferable to more mainstream duties.

Confusing Prowl even further, he had noticed the mech trying to socialize with him outside of their scheduled meetings. Prowl assumed that the mech merely liked talking or that it was part of some elaborate practical joke devised by the Twins he was friends with. That was a far more likely answer to the situation; mechs simply didn’t seek him out for the pleasure of his company.

Prowl recalled his first meeting with the liaison, in a hallway on his way to meet with Ultra Magnus. Nightshade had been pleased that the mech was being transferred to Iacon but Prowl was certain he had been confused by the posting as well. Prowl had not been expecting to meet the liaison before their first official meeting but he had been standing there with Nightshade and only Prowl’s innate sense of politeness had made him stop.

When Prowl had finally faced the new mech directly his spark had started pulsing wildly and for a moment Prowl had thought his lover had returned. Jazz’s first words had shattered that hope; his lover would have said something different, made himself known somehow. Probably by using that terrible nickname.

Memories of the past edged in on his processor but Prowl ruthlessly shoved them back. He wouldn’t give in to self-pity when there was work to be done. Meister had disappeared sixteen vorns ago as a disembodied spark and processor and hadn’t shown up or sent word of his functionality. Truthfully, Prowl had all but given up on seeing his lover again. He still kept the visor Meister had given him, it sat on his desk, a reminder of the sacrifices he had made for the war.

However he was contemplating the liaison as he moved through the base. Nightshade had repeatedly reminded him that the mech’s name was Jazz and that he was really a nice bot if he would just spend a little time with him away from work. Prowl resolutely refused, he had made the effort before and he’d had to smelt the body that had brought him such delight. It was bad enough he felt his spark warm whenever the liaison entered a room.

Prowl entered Nightshade’s department and aimed straight for the ‘training facility’. Officially they didn’t have a place for training specialized operatives within Iacon. Unofficially this was the place to find any missing Ops agents while on base. They would use the course built into Iacon’s foundations to hone their skills, Nightshade was even known to run the course occasionally.

The presence of the facility was known only to those with the highest clearance and the operatives themselves. Prowl was certain Nightshade disguised its location from some of his own agents too.

Prowl’s optics narrowed as he descended into the bowels of Iacon. Up ahead he could hear the sounds of mechs talking, there were more than a few mechs down here that should have been up on the surface doing their duties. It was a point of contention between him and Nightshade, the Operations Director was protective of his agents and had declared that they needed the time to train even when they should be building covers for themselves amongst the general population.

Prowl stepped onto the observation deck and aimed for his longtime associate. Nightshade was pointing out sections to his recruits, their optics were all locked on the monitors in front of them.

“Prowl, what brings you down here?” Nightshade asked before Prowl had crossed the room.

“The liaison is late for our meeting. My information has him located here.”

Nightshade chuckled. “One day I will find out where you get your information. I had to borrow Jazz for a training demonstration. He should be done soon, in fact you’ve arrived for the best part.”

Prowl moved to the bank of screens, there were countless cameras setup along the course to catch the progress of the agents. Prowl had watched numerous bots go through the challenges on these monitors. He focused on the main screen to see that Jazz was climbing along the pipes attached to the ceiling of his course.

“I don’t recognize the layout of this course. Which is it?”

“Six.”

A slight widening of his optics was the only evidence of Prowl’s surprise. “I thought you said no mech had ever made it to six.”

Nightshade nodded. “They hadn’t, until Jazz. His style is different to the usual, he’s more aggressive. It’s been a while since I’ve seen skills like his.”

Prowl watched as the mech flipped down from his high road and snapped a drone in half. In this scenario Jazz would have to get from one end to the other without being seen or ‘tagged’ by the drones. Each drone had advanced programming that became more sophisticated with each level. At level six the drones should have been able to detect his energy signature as he passed over them.

“There is not much in his file on where he received his training.” Prowl said quietly, not that the recruits were paying any attention to them. “I have only that he was a victim in the attack on Tarn and his following records within the army.”

“Jazz is pretty quiet about his past. Had a lot of trauma from Tarn, spent close to a vorn in Crystal City recovering. From what I understand he had most of his body rebuilt there.”

Prowl frowned. “His frame is not a model native to Tarn, Crystal City or their surrounding areas. I am curious as to where he came from.”

“I doubt Jazz is native to anywhere, he designed his body after the attack which is why it doesn’t really belong to anywhere. There are bits and pieces of different cultures all through his frame.”

He studied the form slinking through the labyrinth and saw that Nightshade was correct. A Polyhexian helm sat over a frame more suited to Altihex. His flashy paintwork was indicative of Kalis and there was distinct evidence of Kaon in his movements. The mech truly was strange and yet he managed to pull all these different elements together into a very graceful frame.

“Here comes the best bit.” Nightshade grinned and nodded to one of the recruits. A quick pull of a lever and the lights in the training ground blacked out.

Prowl’s optics locked onto the main screen, it displayed a night-vision image of Jazz standing frozen in place. A quick glance at Nightshade’s grinning face had Prowl confused.

“I’ve only seen him do this once during a job in Darkmount.” Nightshade said softly.

Prowl continued to watch the screen and felt some amusement when Jazz turned a frown towards the camera. The liaison then tensed as a drone moved down the hallway parallel to him, his head was tilted down and to the side. Then he did something that had Prowl’s guards shattering and gaping at the screen like everyone else.

The back armour lifted and two delicate panels unfolded. The back panel lowered again and Jazz stood there with two doorwings quivering in the darkness. The wings were lovely in their slim, compact design and curved tips. Prowl had never seen a design like that before, they were as unique as the mech they were attached to.

A bolt of heat slammed through Prowl’s spark as he watched the panels wave and flutter in the air, sending out signals only those with wings could understand. Signals he was sure the liaison didn’t mean to be radiating.

His hands clenched to still the desire to caress those delicate panels. They weaved and dipped, an invitation if he ever saw one. What would he do if he could get his hands on those panels? Not only the panels but the rest of that strangely attractive body? He pushed the thoughts away, and glared at the screen. What was it about this mech that made his body react this way? For vorns he had only been able to think of Meister and now here he was suddenly wanting to interface with someone new.

Self-disgust rose in Prowl’s spark, dousing the yearning heat.

“He is not Praxian.” Prowl said through clenched denta.

Nightshade nodded, not noticing Prowl’s inner turmoil or pretending he didn’t. “They’re dedicated to an old friend I think. Definitely makes him more effective in situations where visual data is unreliable. I’m contemplating getting retro fitted.”

An undignified scoffing sound came from Prowl’s vocalizer. “Inform the liaison that our next meeting has been cancelled. I will contact him with a new time.”

He ignored Nightshade’s look of surprise and turned away, leaving the Special Operations agents to study their superior’s moves.

The walk back to his office was a blur as Prowl attempted to understand the conflict between his spark and his processor. He breezed past Bluestreak and locked the door to his office.

Sitting in his chair, he dropped his head into his hands. His spark and processor fought each other in his helm. One was desperately trying to convince him that Jazz was Meister, there were clues that indicated as much yet his processor argued that he couldn’t possibly be his lost lover.

His lover had never failed to declare his presence even when behind Autobot lines, why would he do so now? Jazz had been in Iacon for over two orns and not once had he implied that he shared a past with Prowl. He had attempted to socialize with him but after Prowl has told him no the mech had stopped.

No, Jazz most definitely was not Meister.

His spark rebelled; what about the surge when they had first met? It demanded. What about the vague background and the doorwings created for an old friend? Why was he the only mech Prowl had found physically enticing in sixteen vorns?

A rough groan escaped his vocalizer and Prowl shut off his optics. His spark ached with the desire for Meister to return, he had given up hope so long ago that maybe he was finally moving on.

His spark cried out in denial, he didn’t want another mech, he wanted Meister to return and punch Jazz in the faceplates. No, that wouldn’t happen. Meister would probably find Jazz attractive and try to convince Prowl into sharing him.

A soft smile edged up his faceplates and he reached for the visor. Without being attached to a mech it was a soft white crystal, partially opaque. It’s perfectly cut edges were almost razor sharp, the attachment points had small webs of circuitry that would allow the mech it was attached to give it colour.

Prowl recalled the moment he has smashed Meister’s visor in an effort to escape him, the blow had stunned the then Decepticon but it had allowed Prowl to see the silver optics beneath. He’d never seen silver optics before, most bots had coloured lenses – red and blue predominantly worn by Decepticons and Autobots respectively. Neutral bots usually chose to have green, purple or golden optics. Silver was considered colourless, almost like having no optics at all.

Meister’s had been different, they had sparkled with mischief when he had been courting Prowl and shifting to a platinum tone when he’d been aroused.

Prowl placed the visor back on his desk, memories of Meister still floating in his processor. He could wait a little longer for his lover to return, not even the alluring form of his liaison would distract him.

00—00—00—00—00—00

“Ohhh, who are we pranking?”

Jazz jerked as his solitude was interrupted by two large forms dropping onto the couch.

“No one.”

“Oh, come on. That’s your planning face. Let me help?” Sideswipe pleaded.

“I’m not plannin’ on prankin’ anyone. Just plannin’ in general.”

Sunstreaker scoffed. “You planning anything is a prank.”

The Twins stretched out on either side of him and Jazz felt irritation flow through his circuitry. He really didn’t need the Twins input right at this moment. Prowl had been avoiding him ever since he’d missed their meeting. Nightshade had told him Prowl had watched part of his run through the course but Jazz couldn’t think that would have made Prowl avoid him. It was an open secret that he was a covert operative; his file was full of blanked pages only the highest of clearance could read. He was quite proud of his success as an Autobot and yet here he was wondering if that was what made Prowl run away.

He growled softly as the Twins bantered over his head. He needed to find a way into Prowl’s office without the little guardmech from stopping him.

Speaking of the slagmaker, the little grey and black mech was moving through the commissary towards the energon dispenser. An idea popped into his head and the ‘planning’ face Sideswipe had accused him of having appeared. The Twins had both gone still and quiet when Bluestreak had walked in, giving Jazz plenty of confidence in his plan.

The little Praxian was clearly lost in his thoughts as he waited for a free machine, his lips moved every few seconds as if he was having a conversation with himself. Jazz noted, with amusement, that the Twins turned predatory optics on the mech. Sideswipe’s was more obvious but Sunstreaker’s look was more intense.

Satisfied that his plan was going to work he waved at Bluestreak as he headed for the door.

“Hey, Blue!”

The Praxian smiled and trotted towards them, the cubes he carried tilting in his hands. Jazz grinned as the mechs beside him tensed.

“That’s a lot of energon for one mech, ya plannin’ on gettin’ overcharged?” Jazz said, gesturing casually at the four cubes he was carrying.

Bluestreak adjusted his hold on the cubes. “I wish. Prowl’s got me working double shifts with him until this whole mess with Gygax blows over. The commanders there are putting more paperwork on his desk that all of the Wreckers combined.”

Jazz hid is frown under his visor, he knew exactly what was going on in Gygax and it wasn’t that big enough of a deal to be working double shifts. Or forcing your assistant to work them with you. Jazz suspected this was part of Prowl’s plan to avoid him. If he was constantly working Jazz wouldn’t be able to find him in the hallways.

Jazz jumped to his feet and took three of the cubes from Bluestreak. “Here, let me help ya with that. Ya’ve been working double shifts for cycles and ya need your rest just like everyone else, I’ll take these to Prowl. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, will you two help my friend unwind?”

Bluestreak’s optics went wide as he seemed to finally realize who had been sitting with Jazz. Doorwings quivered in a way Jazz recognized, he hid his smirk as he pushed the mech to take his previous spot between the Twins. The poor mech looked terrified as he clutched his remaining cube to his chest yet he could tell that he was more scared of his own reaction to the Twins than anything else.

With a final wave, Jazz left the Praxian to the tender mercies of the Twins and aimed for Prowl’s office. His spark pulsed eagerly as it did every time he came down this hallway. The mere thought of being near Prowl still put his spark into overdrive.

The door was sealed with a code but Jazz didn’t think too hard as he hacked it with one hand, the other balancing the energon cubes. After a moment the door hissed open and Jazz scanned the small area Bluestreak worked in. It was roughly half the size of Prowl’s office just beyond, filing cabinets and data consoles took up most of the space. He could see the evidence of Bluestreak’s long joors on his desk.

He moved swiftly to the connecting door and shoved it open, unsurprisingly he saw Prowl hunched over his desk, industriously working on a set of datapads. Jazz could tell each one was almost full to capacity by the little flashing light on the top.

Prowl didn’t look up as Jazz stepped closer, his optics moving over the piles of datapads and data-sticks that took up the main space on Prowl’s desk.

“I heard ya were busy but this is ridiculous.”

Prowl jolted, his doorwings sweeping up in surprise. Ice blue optics widened marginally and Jazz knew Prowl was more affected by his unannounced visit than he showed. He dropped the cubes onto the piles of datapads, one tipped and rolled across the desk. Prowl stared at the cube before straightening.

“Where is Bluestreak?”

“Havin’ a break. He’s been on doubles for a deca-cycle, he’s not capable of takin’ that sorta punishment.”

“Work is not a punishment.” Prowl replied. “You may see it that way but others do not.”

Jazz glared at his counterpart. As much as he still loved Prowl, it was getting increasingly frustrating that he couldn’t even pin him down for long enough to get his work done.

“I like my job, Prowl, despite what ya might think. And I have some work that needs to be done but that ain’t happening until ya stop avoidin’ me.”

Jazz paused, his processor repeating his words back to him and he almost laughed. Meister was well and truly dead if he was complaining that he couldn’t get any work done rather than complaining that he wasn’t getting any from the sexy mech in front of him.

“I informed you that our meeting would be rescheduled.”

Jazz threw his hands in the air. “That was over an orn ago!”

“Yes, and the situation in Gygax has interrupted many duties across the base.”

He braced his hands on the desk and leaned in. “No part of what is happening in Gygax should compromise the work being done by the covert operatives. We need the information they can get us and ya stubbornness is puttin’ more than one operation at risk.”

Prowl tensed but Jazz ignored the reaction, his temper finally cracking after being kept at arms-length for so long.

“I know I missed tha meetin’, I’m sorry. I should have told ya I was doin’ a display for the Spec.Ops mechs but ya know what, I didn’t cause it’s become too frustratin’ dealin’ wit ya. Ya hold me back and don’t communicate fully, I feel like ya don’t want me to get too close to ya and that’s really pissin’ me off. What did I do to make ya so skittish?”

Prowl stood slowly and Jazz backed off, he could see the conflict in Prowl’s optics but didn’t quite understand it. He used to be able to read Prowl like a book but the changes in him had stopped that.

“I would appreciate it if you would leave my office. I have a window in my schedule in two cycles, if that would be agreeable with you.” There was restrained emotion in Prowl’s voice but Jazz couldn’t tell if it was anger or something else.

Taking what he was offered would have to do, Jazz realized. Prowl was clearly under the pump with the crap the mechs were pulling in Gygax and he really didn’t want to strain Prowl any further. From this distance he could see the effect the long cycles were having on Prowl.

“Fine. Jus’ one last thing.”

Jazz leaned in across the desk, bringing one hand up to grab Prowl’s helm. He pulled Prowl in and pressed his lips against his. Prowl was unresponsive but Jazz hadn’t really expected anything else, he was still waiting for Meister. It was that loyalty that kept Jazz in love with the frustrating mech.

Despite Prowl’s stillness the softness Jazz had always known was there, the faint taste of energon and the tangy flavour of Prowl’s metal. His spark shuddered in its chamber and Jazz had to forcibly control the urge to climb over the desk and reclaim Prowl as his.

With the force of his desire shaking his plating, Jazz released Prowl and left the office without another word. The door closed with a soft ‘click’ behind him. He managed to make it into his quarters before he sagged to the ground, his legs giving out under him.

The heat that had bloomed in his spark while kissing Prowl simmered under his armor. Jazz tipped his head back against the door, his vents humming dully as he enjoyed the sweet torture of his need. His mind played back the feel of Prowl’s lips, lips he hadn’t touched for far too long. Their shape and texture burned indelibly in his processor.

What in the Pits had he been thinking?  He’d kissed Prowl. Straight up kissed him without even giving the mech a warning. Jazz groaned; he hadn’t been thinking, he’d just listened to the desire in his spark and acted.

If Prowl had been avoiding him before he would probably disappear from the base now.

Jazz rubbed his hands across his face, it would be just his luck if Prowl realized who he was after that move. He’d exposed himself through the sheer stupidity of his actions. Jazz could only think that he still kissed the same as he had when he was Meister, he hadn’t really practiced on anyone since becoming Jazz. Well, he’d kissed Ratchet quickly in thanks for putting him in a new body but that was it.

Jazz froze as an epiphany came to him…what did it matter if Prowl found out who he was? Prowl was the one mech he wanted to know. Ironhide, Ratchet and even Prime could suck Unicron’s tailpipe for all he cared. Prowl was the one who needed to know he was alive and in Iacon.

A smile grew on his face as tension bled from his frame. He would tell Prowl, he couldn’t wait for the mech to figure it out for himself. The oblivious bot probably hadn’t even noticed Jazz flirting with him during their meetings together. Slag, it had taken vorns for him to see that Meister had wanted to get into his armour and not deactivate him.

Jazz didn’t have any more vorns to give. He was at the end of his impressive patience and he wanted results.

Happy with the direction of his thoughts, Jazz clambered to his feet and moved around his room. He wouldn’t just spring the information on Prowl during their meeting but he could definitely give out some major clues that just might spur the mech into asking.

If he didn’t take the bait…well, Jazz wasn’t above sneaking into a mech’s quarters in the middle of their recharge cycle. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support. Hopefully you're as happy with the reunion as Prowl and Jazz are ;)

_Two cycles later_

Jazz leapt out of his berth with a grin already in place. Unlike Meister, Jazz had never been a mech to laze about when he had plans to implement. Today he would be meeting Prowl for their extremely overdue meeting.

He’d seen the mech briefly the previous cycle. Prowl had been walking down the hallway with Bluestreak on his heels, both carrying far too many datapads. He had looked tired and stern and very much in need of a hug.

Jazz smiled to himself, surprised again at how much he had changed; previously he wouldn’t have hesitated to grope Prowl’s aft or doorwings just to get a rise out of him. Now he was considering what was appropriate and had satisfied himself with a smile and quick wink. Prowl’s doorwings had flicked, giving Jazz just enough of a reaction to keep him happy.

He hadn’t been sure how Prowl would react to him after the kiss and he was pleased that the mech had acknowledged him even slightly. The slight flicker of his wing had told Jazz far more than Prowl realized. It told him that Prowl wasn’t upset to see him; it said that Jazz was welcome around him.

The tenseness in his frame had told Jazz that the mech wasn’t comfortable with the new development either.

Jazz grabbed a personal buffer and smoothed away the couple of dull spots he’d received during recharge. His thoughts remained on Prowl as he cleaned himself up, his plan would work this time. If it didn’t Plan B would; sneak into Prowl’s quarters and molest him.

Satisfied that he looked good enough to attract some optics, Jazz slipped from his room and headed for the commissary, a cube in his tanks would help steady him for the interesting day ahead.

 

Jazz’s first appointment for the day was with Nightshade.

He pushed his thoughts of Prowl away as he entered Spec.Ops Director’s office; he had to keep his attention focused so Nightshade didn’t read his anticipation.

 “You’re looking far too happy today.”

Well that had failed quickly.

“It’s a nice day, can’t a bot be happy on a nice day.” He dropped into the chair across from the mech.

Nightshade’s optics narrowed. “I would agree with you except I have a pile of classified operations that need a green light and a barracks full of antsy agents. Prime’s not allowing us to send them out without tactical’s approval as well.”

Jazz winced as the repercussions from Prowl’s avoidance was waved in his face. His work had suffered because of it and it was also affecting the pending assignments.

Nightshade steepled his fingers, his elbows braced on the desk. “Is there something stopping you and Prowl from getting the plans approved?”

Jazz shook his head. “I have a meeting scheduled in five joors, I’ll get as many through as possible.”

“Good. You’ve mixed in well, Jazz, and up to now you’ve made this part of the job easier.” Nightshade motioned to the pile of datapads. “If you have an issue with Prowl I need to know.”

“No issue, he’s backed up with the slag in Gygax but I’ll make sure our meeting doesn’t get cut off early.” Falling back on the excuse Prowl had given him was easier than the truth.

Nightshade vented a sigh and nodded. Jazz could see the strain of the uprising in the semi-neutral city was taking its toll on Nightshade as well. How a small group of battle incompetent neutrals had managed to upset the higher ranks, he had no idea. Jazz would have volunteered to go find out but his aft was welded to Iacon until he completed the final stage of his mission.

The meeting past as most of theirs did, discussing the pros and cons of sending which agent into which situation. Jazz was trying to push Mirage into more ops, encouraging expanding his skills and experience while Nightshade wanted to do the same with one of his protégés. It made for an amusing and heated debate at times. In the end they had compromised; Mirage would go into Kaon and Scrubs to Helex. Both were strong Decepticon fortresses and good proving grounds for the mechs.

Nightshade’s tension seemed to have eased slightly as Jazz rose to leave, holding a new stack of datafiles that he would need to go over with one of the senior tacticians before presenting them to Prowl.

“Try not to run over Prowl to get our assignments going, okay Jazz?” Nightshade called.

Jazz smiled and saluted casually, making no promises as he slipped from the room.

00—00—00—00—00—00

A handful of joors later Jazz strolled into Prowl’s office, his jaunty stride belying his nervous spark. The brief sparring session he had engaged Hound in had done little to ease his stress. Now he would see if the crack in Prowl’s shields was still there.

Prowl’s optics watched him as he entered; there was just a hint of an emotion there, just a spark of expectation.  Jazz could imagine he expected him to do something suggestive, like kiss him again. The desire was there, he’d love to do far more than kiss Prowl but he had to play it right. He had to get Prowl to relax at least a little before making any further moves.

He rolled his hips as he walked, accentuating their natural movement just enough to draw attention. Prowl’s jaw tightened and his doorwings shivered. Jazz reined in his triumph, Prowl’s guards were cracking and he knew just how to keep the bot off balance enough to break them down further.

He adjusted his grip on the datapads in his hands.

Jazz wondered what Prowl’s reaction would be once he realized the truth. Would be he angry that Jazz hadn’t told him earlier or would he be pleased?

Jazz hoped he’d be happy to see him. He hoped Prowl would be so happy that he’d drop the coldness and embrace Jazz like they had in the past after a long absence. His spark heated as he imagined Prowl spread out on his desk pleading for Jazz to take him, or maybe it would be the other way around and Jazz would straddle his lover in that big chair and beg until Prowl filled him.

Shudders of delight spread through his body at the imagined scenarios.

But Nightshade’s words were still swirling through his head; he had to get his work out of the way before he could play with the Praxian in front of him.

Prowl’s doorwings twitched as Jazz sank into a chair and he had to control his grin. Prowl wasn’t nearly as unaffected as his expressionless face would have him appear.

Jazz placed his datapads in between the stacks still crowding Prowl’s desk, now almost all of them were done or partially completed.

“So, how’s the score in Gygax?”

Prowl frowned, a mix between confusion and relief. Jazz could imagine the powerful processor trying to work out what Jazz was going to try next. He waited until Prowl eased back into his chair before shifting his body in the seat, angling it so that Prowl couldn’t help but notice the finely designed curves Jazz had put so much time and thought into.

The tactician’s gaze darted from his chassis to the datapads on the desk as he answered. “Two teams of former Enforcers have been dispatched. I anticipate that they will have the issue resolved within two cycles. How the Neutrals got hold of the explosives, I still don’t know.”

Jazz grabbed one of his datapads from the small pile and held it out. “Approve this an’ we’ll find out.”

Prowl scrolled through the information before signing the bottom of it and handing it back. “Rate of success is ninety-four point six percent. That is acceptable.”

Jazz grinned. “Our mechs know what they’re doin’. How about this one? I’ve calculated its chances to be around eighty-one percent. I know ya don’t like odds that low but this is in Kaon.”

He watched as Prowl went through the second datapad, hoping that it would be approved. It was a different assignment than the one he wanted to put Mirage on, but it was vital that they get a mech into the Decepticon home city ASAP.

Jazz didn’t like a long-term undercover operation in such a volatile location but having spies among the enemy was integral. Kaon was a rough place to live, he’d experienced all its dubious charm for longer than he cared to admit, it took a certain type of mech to survive there. A fact that explained why the city had readily fallen into Megatron’s hands.

Prowl nodded and signed off on that assignment as well. Jazz vented a soft sigh of relief and sat back as Prowl sank into ‘work mode’ and all but ignored him. It was a habit Jazz had gotten used to when he was still Meister. On more than one occasion he had snuck into whichever outpost or base Prowl had been stationed at and watched him work. Prowl had an intensity about him when he was wrapped up in the core function of his programming, for Jazz it was like watching perfection in motion.

Two joors later and Jazz felt the edge of boredom niggling in his helm. Prowl had broken his trance a few times to discuss and make changes to the proposed missions but other than that he had powered through them, reading each detail and running it through the advanced tactical centre built into his processor.

The desire to distract Prowl grew until Jazz had to physically restrain himself by clutching the armrests of his chair. His optics scoured the room for something to entertain himself with while Prowl did the all-important task of approving the covert operations.

His attention latched onto the crystal visor sitting on a raised platform on the desk. He had seen it numerous times visiting this office but today it glinted at him brightly, as if it recognized him as an old friend and was welcoming him back.

Jazz smirked at his musing, that visor had been one of his favourites. Perfectly created to integrate with his neural cortex, it was able to do all sorts of tricks to help Jazz through the darkness he used to live in. A mechs’ optics could only do so much; the visor enhanced all of his abilities including adding several frequencies that normal optics couldn’t see on.

If he had that visor back he would probably be able to see Mirage when he was cloaked.

Jazz’s hand moved before he realized what he was doing. Prowl’s optics rose when Jazz picked up the visor and he could see the slight suspicion in his gaze. Jazz was sure the chance that he was Meister had crossed Prowl’s mind by now.

“This is pretty neat; design’s a bit sharper than mine.” Jazz offered softly. The old visor came down into a sharp point that almost covered the nasal ridge while his new one was a gentle curve.

“Put that down.” Prowl replied, tension noticeable in his tone.

“Didn’ ya creator ever teach ya to use ya manners. Say ‘please’.” Jazz grinned. “Calm ya circuits, I’m only gonna look at it... Do ya reckon it would fit me?”

He celebrated internally as Prowl tensed even further. Those ice optics followed every move of Jazz’s hands on the crystal. It felt strange holding this piece of memorabilia from his previous life, the only physical evidence that he had ever been someone other than Jazz.

He had expected to feel a sense of melancholy for the life he’d lost. He recalled all the fun he’d had blowing up various city icons and causing as much damage as he could to the mechs around him. It had been intoxicating, the sense of freedom to do whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted.

From under his visor Jazz looked up and caught Prowl’s optics, peace swept through his spark and he knew exactly why he didn’t miss the life he’d left behind. He’d willingly changed who he was to have a chance with Prowl. The wary optics looking back at him were the very reason he’d made the decision to become a better mech long before agreeing to become an Autobot.

“Here.” Jazz said softly as he held out the visor to Prowl. He didn’t need the reminder of his past when he had his future in front of him. Literally.

Prowl took the visor from him carefully and placed it back on his desk.

The tension in the office had a strange flavor to it now and Jazz wasn’t sure what he should do next. His plan hadn’t included looking into his own feelings about their past at all, just exposing his identity to Prowl. Jazz rubbed his hands together, trying to get some of his usual enthusiasm going.

“So, any notes ya want to discuss b’fore I send out the troops.”

Prowl’s gaze contained a myriad of emotions but Jazz still couldn’t properly identify what most of them were, the slagger was still unreadable. Though, he could definitely see confusion and suspicion in their pale depths.

“No. The orders are fine.”

Jazz nodded and gathered up his datapads, his hands a trifle clumsy in their haste. His spark burned as he escaped the strange vibe hanging between them. It wasn’t the anticipatory tension that used to cling to their frames in the moments before one claimed the other, nor was it the distant tolerance Prowl emanated up to now. It was different and confusing in a way Jazz didn’t like. He felt like they were on a precipice and he didn’t know which way to fall.

At the door he stopped and threw one last look at Prowl, ice blue optics met his, the uncertainty reflected in their depths more than he could handle at the moment. He wanted to blurt the truth out, just straight up say ‘Prowl, I’m Meister. I’m back.’ but the words got stuck in his vocalizer.

“Jazz?” Prowl’s voice was soft, far different from the brisk quality it usually held.

Cursing himself for being a coward, Jazz screwed up his courage.

“Prowl, I-“

The door slid open and Jazz jerked back as Bluestreak blinked up at him. The instinct to run rose and Jazz obeyed, his feet moving him past the smaller Praxian before his processor kicked back in.

When he finally stopped, Jazz was leaning against a wall near the storerooms. He didn’t recall the route he had taken to get here, all he could bring up was the surprise that he’d been interrupted and the fear of exposing himself.

Fear? Jazz slipped to the floor, resting his back against the wall as he examined the fear that had prompted his abrupt escape from Prowl’s office. What was he scared of? It couldn’t be Prowl or Bluestreak. Neither bot were a true threat to him.

His spark pinged and Jazz had to revise that thought. Prowl was a threat to him. Jazz’s hands shook slightly. The whole time he was building this new person he’d had Prowl in the back of his processor, a target, a prize, but never a truly attainable goal.

Jazz had created and established a life in which he was confident and happy, he had done it all to someday have a future with Prowl and now that was within reach it excited him. It terrified him.

What if Prowl rejected him? What if he didn’t like who Jazz had created and wanted Meister back? Jazz wasn’t sure his carefree façade could take that sort of punishment. If Prowl rejected him he would have little to fall back on. Underneath all the social defences he’d built Jazz was still a mech in need of his sparkmate.

His spark ached at the direction of his thoughts and pushed warmth and love forward, directing Jazz’s attention to the final moments before he’d been removed from his former body.

_Prowl held his hand, the restraints finally having been released once Meister had promised his good behaviour. Blue optics stared into silver ones, sparks speaking through the lenses, oblivious to the three mechs witnessing the scene._

_“Ya gonna wait for me, Prowler?”_

_“Of course.”_

_“I probably won’ be the same, ya may not recognize me.”_

_Prowl smiled gently. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to reveal yourself.”_

_“The sooner we complete the extraction the sooner you two can be reunited.” Ratchet said, not harshly._

_Prowl nodded tightly and moved back a step from the berth. The loss of his partner jolted Meister’s spark and he reached for Prowl, wrapping a hand behind his head. He chose to ignore the way the others brought their weapons up._

_He pulled Prowl down to him and sealed their lips together, a sense of desperation filling him as he tried to take in as much of his lover as possible. Meister curled his arm around Prowl’s neck, flipping off the mechs in the room at the same time. He needed the reassurance of this beloved body before he willingly turned the very essence of himself over to a stranger._

_Prowl’s lips parted and welcomed Meister, his doorwings pressing into the fingers stroking along their edges._

_They parted reluctantly to see a slightly uncomfortable audience, well the medic was smirking but Prime and Ironhide looked uncomfortable._

_“Love ya, Prowler. Don’t ya forget I’ll be coming back for ya.”_

_“I’ll be waiting.”_

_Meister hesitated before lying back down on the berth, his optics remained locked onto Prowl’s as the medic did something at the controls and the world started to go hazy. Panic rose and Meister almost reached up to remove the lines connected to his main pipes. Prowl’s hands on his calmed him and Meister gave up the fight to stay online._

Jazz came out of his memory still able to feel Prowl’s tight grip on his hand. His spark felt sore but Jazz was reassured, he had made the right choice and he would confess to Prowl. Prowl had promised to wait for him and Jazz had promised to find him.

Climbing back to his feet, Jazz made a bee-line for Nightshade’s office. He had to hand over the finalized plans and then start organizing Plan B.

00—00—00—00—00—00

Bluestreak trotted down the hallway, not really paying attention to what was around him as his mind was currently lost in the configuration of the program Prowl wanted him to learn, his feet tapping out a regular tattoo on the corridor floor. He was aiming for Prowl’s quarters, his commander was off duty but he had a query regarding the coding and Prowl had never turned him away before.

He should have been watching what was around him, or rather what was in front of him.

Awareness came just a moment too late, had Bluestreak looked up three footsteps earlier he might have avoided the collision with the broad red chest. As it was, he bounced off it and landed on his aft, datapad tumbling from his hands and sliding across the floor into a black ped.

Blue tipped his head back, his doorwings hiking up his back as he recognized the mech he’d walked into.

“Hey there, Bluestreak, you should watch where you’re going.”

Blue mumbled an apology, his vocalizer making sounds his processor couldn’t even understand. Sideswipe grinned, the charming one-sided smirk sent a barb of heat through his spark.

A black hand was held out and Bluestreak eyed it warily, he knew it would be a mistake to take it. Prowl was always telling him to stay away from the Twins whenever they came through Iacon.

He understood why Prowl warned him constantly. The day Jazz had left him with them was burned into his processor, the latest of many incidents. Every touch and whispered comment had been designed to unnerve and stimulate Bluestreak. Jazz couldn’t have been more wrong when he’d said ‘unwind’.

When he’d finally escaped his cooling system had been running on full and his interface array overheating, not that it was really any different from the other times they had gotten near him. They always managed to get him alone somehow.

Sideswipe chuckled. “I don’t bite…well, not really.”

Blue frowned; annoyed with his reaction to the mech and that Sideswipe had read him correctly.

He made to stand without help but Sideswipe loomed over him, preventing the action. The bigger mech used his size and position to force Bluestreak into accepting his hand. Curling his fingers around Sideswipe’s, Blue quickly found himself pulled to his feet and colliding again with the red chest.

Blue’s spark jolted and his fuel pump stuttered as he tipped his head back to look at Sideswipe. His handsome face was dangerously close and Bluestreak couldn’t stop the fluttering of his doorwings or the way his fingers pressed into the warm chest.

“Give the bot a chance, Sides.” A smooth voice came from behind him. “I think he was in the middle of something.”

Blue turned enough to see Sunstreaker rising as he picked up the datapad. The screen was still lit up.

“That’s an impressive set of coding, Bluestreak, is it Prowl’s?”

Blue pushed out of Sideswipe’s hold. “No, it’s mine. I have more duties than to follow Prowl around, not that he was wrong about either of you. He told me to stay away from you but that’s hard when you’re attacking me in hallways and rec.rooms.”

Sunstreaker smirked, a look that was far more sensually terrifying than his brother’s. “We haven’t attacked you yet, Blue. I do believe you walked into Sideswipe, he didn’t force you to hit him.”

Blue took a step back, his shoulder bumping into Sideswipe again. Black hands curled around his arms and Blue was trapped. His spark pulsed erratically in his chest, sending peaks of heat to his interface array.

Sunstreaker stepped closer until Bluestreak could feel the heat rolling from his larger frame, his doorwings flicked and trembled as they were assaulted by hot air from in front and behind.

Trapped between two large warm frames wasn’t a situation Bluestreak would normally be upset with but Prowl’s warnings ran through his head in a loop.

“You need to leave me alone. Prowl will be angry if he finds out that I’ve been around you again. You know he always gets upset when he sees you near me.”

“Are you planning on Bonding with Prowl?” Sideswipe asked, his grip tightening marginally.

The trio didn’t see the dark form above them pause, they were all too focused on each other.

“N-no! But why would you care if I was? I’m hardly the type either of you would usually go after, so why are you doing this? Why do you always have to stalk me whenever you’re in Iacon?”

Blue was surprised at his outburst, he usually just let them touch his wings for a few breems before comming Prowl to come find him. The Twins would then be sent to the brig or transferred out and everything would go back to normal.

Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed slightly before moving to look over Bluestreak’s shoulder. Sideswipe’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles on the back of his arms but Blue could sense they were communicating with each other.

Finally Sunstreaker looked at him again. “You want to know the truth about why we find you?”

A prickle of unease went down his backstrut. Did he? “Yes.”

There was a tingle of moving air before a body pushed between his doorwings, flattening them outwards. Hands released his arms to trail along the sensitive edges and Bluestreak trembled. He flinched when Sideswipe’s head came down to rest on his shoulder.

“When we get sent out, we never know if we’re going to come back. We’re the first on the front lines and the ones that take the first hits. It’s getting harder to handle, Blue. We need to have something to come back to, something worth the sacrifice.”

“And you want that to be me?” Bluestreak asked, flattered and scared.

“It is you. You are the sweetest, most innocent mech we’ve ever met. You are everything we’re not. You’re worth fighting for.”

Bluestreak could only stare at Sunstreaker as Sideswipe whispered in his audio. The normally reserved mech was allowing his emotions to shine through his optics, reflecting Sideswipe’s words.

All the times they had hunted him down, defied Prowl’s orders and earned brig time they had been trying to get his attention. Bluestreak was touched, his spark flaring hotly in his chest. It was almost romantic, the extent that the Twins had gone through for him. His logic components intruded, bringing up consequences of the Twins plan.

Anger fought the desire in his spark for dominance and he glared at the twin he could see.

“What do you expect me to do when you’re out there? Just sit back and wave my wings? I may not be on the field that often but I know what to expect! And when the news comes in that you’ve been hit and the medics have you, am I supposed to sit back and wait to find out if you’ve survived? If you cared so much why would you want to put me through that?” He vented in frustration, he wanted the Twins but the reality of the situation was apparent. “You will get hurt, that’s not debatable. More often than not we find you in the medbay after a skirmish, do you want Ratchet to put dents in me because I’m worried about you and won’t leave. He’s already threatened to ban me from visiting because of you.”

Bluestreak snapped his mouth shut, realizing he may have let out more information than he intended. It was true that Ratchet had threatened him; he’d been hovering near a wall watching the medics administer drugs to the offline Twins, his spark twisting uncomfortably in his chest. The evidence of their injuries still obvious on their battered frames. He’d stood there for three joors before Ratchet had thrown him out.

Sunstreaker looked amused though Bluestreak couldn’t be sure if it was because of his outburst or his unintentional revelation. Sideswipe rubbed his cheek against the edge of Blue’s helm and nuzzled into his neck.

“Give me a reason not to get hurt, not to jump in front of a missile and hope it’s the final one I have to take.” Sunstreaker said, his voice strained despite the expression on his face.

Bluestreak wasn’t sure what made him reach for the golden warrior, most likely a mix of their need and his desire, but he was suddenly clinging to Sunstreaker’s shoulders, his mouth seized in a heated kiss. Tremors ran rampant over Blue’s frame as Sideswipe pressed in behind him, running his hands over the joints of his doorwings and the seams of his armour as he scattered kisses over his neck and shoulders.

Sunstreaker controlled the kiss, introducing Bluestreak to the heady delights of what the mech was capable of. He pressed Blue back into his brother, using his glossa to coax Bluestreak into letting him in.

“Open for us, Blue.” Sideswipe groaned, his hands coming around to stroke along his bumper and guards.

Bluestreak shook, his spark swelling in his chest as the Twins worked their magic on his frame. Sideswipe’s order sent need swirling down to his interface. He slowly parted his lips, Sunstreaker’s glossa tracing the seam to encourage his movement. His glossa came out hesitantly to stroke along Sun’s, the resulting shiver started in Sunstreaker and ended with Sideswipe vibrating against his doorwings. The sweet pleasure causing Blue to cry out into Sunstreaker’s mouth.

Blue’s processor was spinning when Sunstreaker raised his head. “We should move to somewhere more private.”

Bluestreak felt Sideswipe nod and his hands stroked down to Blue’s waist. A brief pause and Bluestreak was lifted into the air, he scrambled to get a secure hold on Sunstreaker as his brother moved him easily.

Blue’s arms locked around Sun’s neck and his legs wrapped around the narrowest part of his waist. Sunstreaker growled, his hands coming up to curl under Bluestreak’s aft, kneading the plating there. Pleasure spread through his systems as Sunstreaker’s hands moved on him, his hips bumping into Sunstreaker’s.

Denta latched onto his neck and Blue shuddered as he felt the powerful body move, each step causing their interface panels to slide against each other and increase the desire to let the Twins do whatever they wanted to him here in the hallway.

00—00—00—00—00—00

Jazz still found it amusing that no matter how many times he’d infiltrated a Decepticon base using the ceiling highways, also known as ventilation system and pipes, the Autobots still hadn’t thought to place security through theirs. Oh, there were sensors and cameras in the routes that lead to external openings but there was nothing monitoring the interior shafts.

Using the magnets in his hands and feet, Jazz was able to easily evade all the bots that were still up. He swung out of a ventilation shaft and latched onto the thick pipe that transported cabling from one end of the base to the other. He had hacked into many mainframes using the cables in these kinds of pipes.

Hugging the ceiling he made his way carefully, Jazz had noticed that only a certain type of mech looked up in the safety of their own base. It was usually the mechs that had been attacked while thinking they were safe, them and the Ops agents. Jazz had organized the duty roster to keep all of the Ops mechs away from the personnel quarters. Nightshade was his only problem, as a section head he could come and go as he pleased and he would undoubtedly notice Jazz clinging to the ceiling while evading security cameras. It was only an emergency that would keep him sequestered in his office.

A feral grin lifted Jazz faceplates as he scuttled along. An emergency just like the one Mirage was organizing right now. A slight security breach in one of the Ops ‘safe zones’ would have Nightshade distracted for long enough for Jazz to slink into Prowl’s quarters. He was sure the Towers mech would hold him responsible for any indignity he suffered.

The sound of a scuffle reached Jazz’s sensitive audio sensors and he approached carefully, he didn’t want to interfere and lose his stealthy approach but he couldn’t allow fighting in the halls either. He reached a corner and peeked around to see what the disturbance was, annoyed that it was directly in the path he was headed.

His optics widened as the Twins blocked in Bluestreak. Sideswipe’s hands catching the smaller mechs arms. This was new. He knew the Twins had the gear for little Blue but he hadn’t thought they were game enough to act on it with Prowl on base.

Jazz crept forward, he could hear Bluestreak speaking fast but not the individual words. Wanting to hear what was going down he moved faster along the pipe.

“Are you planning on Bonding with Prowl?”

He froze, his fingers almost sliding off the pipe in shock. He had never considered that an option. Prowl had promised to wait for him but didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t taken comfort with another. Jazz couldn’t blame him if he did, he’d been gone a long time, but he wouldn’t be happy with it either.

Blue’s stuttered answer returned feeling to Jazz’s spark. He’d hate to have to kill the little mech for touching his lover, he liked Bluestreak.

Lost in his relief, Jazz missed a part of what was happening below him. He turned his attention back to the trio as Sideswipe moved closer into Bluestreak’s space, his hands lifting to the doorwing edges. His whispered words floated up to Jazz, the fine tuning of his audio system made them clear as crystal.

Jazz felt the surprise shape his face at Sideswipe’s impassioned words. He’d never really considered the Twins being that affected by the stunts they pulled; it was unusual if they weren’t doing something potentially death-worthy on the field.

He smiled as Bluestreak tensed and half-shouted at the pair. It was good to see the young Praxian stand up for himself and not just get pulled along with what the Twins wanted. Bluestreak had several good points, or rather questions; his would-be lovers did have a tendency to end up in multiple pieces on a regular basis. Prowl certainly wouldn’t be pleased to know his protégé was involved with mechs who would break his spark by deactivating on the battlefield.

Sunstreaker leaned in closer to Bluestreak and Jazz was on the verge of dropping in to break up the situation but stopped to listen as Sunny spoke. The words were quiet but strong, carrying a wealth of feeling. Jazz had underestimated the pair and felt quite ashamed that he had done so; it was taken for granted that they would be there to deflect the worst of the shots and bounce back to take more.

They were treated much like the Wrecker’s were but with less of a support network. The Wrecker’s were a team of five-six bots, depending on the day, and more than one member had a lover outside the crazy team. They could patch up each other’s wounds and still keep going with the knowledge that they weren’t alone.

The Twins only had the Twins.

Jazz had never seen them associate closely with many bots. They’d taken lovers but even Jazz could see that after the intensity of the fights they got in that some stress relief was necessary.

He smiled as Bluestreak launched himself at Sunny, not that he had far to go. Hands gripping at each other as Sideswipe cuddled up against Blue’s back.

It wasn’t long before they made the move to leave the hallway. Sideswipe lifted the smaller mech into his brother’s arms and they headed back the way Jazz had come, towards the barracks. Moments before rounding the corner Jazz saw Sideswipe lean in and claim a kiss from Blue, somehow managing to do so while matching his strides with Sunstreaker’s.

Jazz made a mental note not to tell Prowl of this development, at least not tonight; he’d let the trio sort some things out before unleashing a protective Prowl on them.

Satisfied that he wasn’t the only mech having their dreams come true, Jazz restarted his trek along the ceiling.

It took only a few more breems to reach Prowl’s quarters and a moment longer to hack the lock on his door. Not for the first time that night did Jazz thank Primus that Red Alert was helping develop a better security system for Crystal City, the mechs he’d left behind weren’t as diligent as the Security Director.

Jazz slipped into the room like a ghost, the door only open for a fraction of a breem. He would have preferred using the ducts to get in but the vents inside the rooms were too small to fit even his specially engineered frame through.

Darkness surrounded him as he waited patiently, still attached to the wall by his magnets. The room remained quiet, Prowl not reacting at all to the brief slide of his door opening and closing. Jazz triggered the command to access a broad spectrum of light, his visor picking up every single wave of ambient and infrared light. He mapped out the floorplan and memorized every detail.

He scuttled down the wall and dropped soundlessly to his feet. His first job was to ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed during their overdue reunion. Jazz carefully coded his locking program into the door security, not even Prime or Ratchet would be able to enter before Jazz was willing to let Prowl leave.

Shutting down his visor so he could see almost nothing, Jazz activated the code that released his doorwings. He felt air tickle across his protoform as the sensitive panels unfolded.

They were different from Praxian wings in design but not in function. The collection of delicate sensors tingled, hyper sensitive for the first few breems after exposure. His love of Prowl’s doorwings had been the inspiration for including them on his new frame; he had underestimated just how sensitive the appendages were. Jazz was certain he had hurt Prowl more than once by being too rough, not that the mech had ever admitted it, back then they had still been semi-enemies and Prowl wouldn’t have revealed such a weakness to him.

Flaring his wings out, Jazz collected as much information as possible to include in his mental map. Visually blind for the interim, he tuned into the air pressure, temperature, ventilation flow and the sound waves from the sleepy rumble of Prowl’s engine.

Confident that he could complete his plan without tripping over the couch just to his right, Jazz stalked his prey in the darkness. He was across the room in a handful of stealthy footsteps and hovering over the recharging form, he didn’t want to wake Prowl just yet.

Onlining just a section of his visor, Jazz looked down at his sparkmate. Prowl was lying on his back, his doorwings pulled tight against him to keep them from being damaged. It was one of the few times Jazz had seen  Prowl so vulnerable, most winged bots slept on their fronts so the sensor panels could monitor the world around them, alerting them to any danger.

A small smiled crept up his face as he gazed down at Prowl, his face softened in recharge. The hard angle of his jaw was relaxed and the small frown that appeared with some regularity was gone. He looked almost exactly like the Prowl he had left sixteen vorns earlier.

Jazz reached out, skating the tips of his fingers over the smooth plating of Prowl’s thigh. His hand tingled and he controlled the urge to press harder into the metal, he wanted to seduce Prowl not scare him.

Prowl twitched and went still. Jazz repeated the motion, letting just a little more contact occur. Prowl’s head rolled and his optics came on dimly. Jazz flared his wings to help him read Prowl, the bot wouldn’t be able to see him well in the dark but he would be able monitor Prowl’s reactions.

“What’s wrong?

Jazz’s spark jolted to match Prowl’s quickening pulse. Heat was spreading through Prowl’s body as his systems booted up.

“Smokescreen?”

 Jazz kept his lips sealed, only allowing the small circles on his visor to stare back at Prowl. He moved in, climbing onto the berth next to his lover.

“Bluestreak?” Prowl’s voice had taken on a curious tone, overlapping the alarm he had first used.

“Ya givin’ me names o’ the mechs I gotta kill, Prowler?” Jazz purred as he swung a leg over Prowl’s hips, comfortably straddling his mech. A familiar yet new heat bloomed from their contact point, sending a ripple of lust through his spark.

He activated the rest of his visor, the crystal brightening to a soft blue.

A stuttering intake echoed around the room and Prowl’s optics widened. “Mei-”

He cut off Prowl quickly, placing a hand over his mouth. He leaned down until they were almost touching, his free hand moving to catch the white one reaching for him. Jazz pinned the wrist over Prowl’s head and lowered himself until he was next to Prowl’s audio.

“That ain’t my name, Prowler. I got a shiny new name and shiny new frame. I ain’t that mech anymore.” He shifted his hand so that only his fingers were resting on Prowl’s lips. He felt his spark expand as desire burned through it; he wanted to kiss him again. Long and hard and make him remember who owned him.

Jazz controlled the urges, choosing to arch over Prowl and whisper in his audio instead. “Do ya know how long I’ve been waitin’ for ya to notice me? It’s been so hard to work next to ya and not touch. I’ve been here for three orns and all I’ve been wantin’ to do is corner ya and remind ya of my promise.”

Prowl trembled under him, his free hand coming up to rest on Jazz’s hip. The spark that had sped up upon waking was now pulsing rapidly, a sign Jazz gloried in. He relished the way Prowl’s plating had begun to heat up, the spark hidden beneath finally acknowledging his existence. Bright blue optics stared at him over his hand, their icy core melting.

“I came back for ya, Prowler. Do ya know who I am? I worked real hard to be a mech ya’d be proud of. One ya wouldn’t be ashamed to be Bonded to.”

Jazz’s body was overheating, excited to be finally so close to Prowl. If he relaxed his arms just a micron he would be touching his lover.

Deciding that was a wonderful idea Jazz eased his legs back, sliding down the outside of Prowl’s until he was pressed against Prowl’s body from chest to ped. His grip shifted on the captive wrist, linking their fingers together instead. Prowl’s hand tightened on his and Jazz’s spark leapt, practically doing a ‘happy dance’ in its chamber.

“Say my name, Prowl.” He pulled his fingers away from his lover’s face.

Blue light shined up at him, joy evident in their depths. Jazz felt himself grin in response.

“Jazz.” It was soft but full of the emotion Prowl had been suppressing.

Rather than shout out the jubilant cry that welled in his throat, Jazz seized Prowl’s lips in a kiss he’d been waiting vorns for. He’d tasted Prowl momentarily two cycles ago but that did not compare to now. The softness and feel of his lips sent Jazz’s processor spinning and his hips grinding down. Prowl responded, bringing forward memories of their previous life together. Hands clutched at him, Prowl’s finger’s digging into his hip and waist, mapping out brand new territory. Their entwined fingers contracting until it began to hurt.

Jazz pressed kisses over every inch of Prowl’s lips, rebranding them in his CPU, burning this moment into his spark, especially when Prowl moved to meet his mouth for each kiss. The need to reclaim Prowl worked like molten metal over his circuits.

He parted his lips, running his glossa along the sweet line of Prowl’s mouth. He groaned roughly when Prowl opened to him, teasing his glossa with strokes of his own. He tasted the energon Prowl had drank earlier and could pick out the unique flavour that was all Prowl.

It took all of Jazz’s control to pull back, drawing himself up on his arms to look down at his lover. As much as he wanted to slide into and onto Prowl, they had some talking to do first.

There was a still moment as Prowl pinged the lights to activate and Jazz got to see his old/new lover in his favourite position. The only way it could have been better was if Prowl’s doorwings were spread and within easy reach for his hands.

Prowl stared up at him with darkened optics and parted lips, there was a shine to his features that only came from extra energy backing up in his systems. Coupling that with the heat radiating off the body beneath him, Jazz had a hard time convincing himself to talk rather than ‘face his sparkmate into the berth.

“What took you so long?”

Prowl’s lust-roughened voice sent delicious thrills along Jazz’s neural network.

“I missed ya too, lover.”

He grinned and pressed a gentle kiss against Prowl’s lips, lingering for just a few kliks before sitting back. His interface panel scraped against Prowl’s pelvis, bringing a sharp gasp from both mechs. Jazz shivered as he took in Prowl’s sensual features, he deliberately repeated the action just to see the way his lover’s face changed. The moan that filled his audios was enough to bring Jazz to his knees, if he weren’t already on them.

“You have no idea how I’ve missed you.” Prowl growled.

Desire lit up his sensors as Prowl’s hands roved over his hips, thighs and back. Jazz grinned and continued to press down with his hips, luxuriating having his lover back.

“I think I do, I’ve missed ya more than I ever thought I could.” Jazz rested his hands over Prowl’s chest and stroked down. “Stuck in rusty holes in the ground, all I wanted was to be with ya. I thought I was goin’ insane with needing ya more than once.”

Prowl shuddered, the vibration transmitting up through to Jazz, a sharp intake coming from his vents. Jazz grinned, the heat in his spark soaring and inflaming the reaction behind his interface panel. His valve felt soaked and his spike twitched in its housing, both ready and wanting to get familiar with their new lover.

Slag talking, they could do that later.

00—00—00—00—00—00

Prowl stared in wonder up at the mech straddling him, he had no idea what was going on.

One breem he’s recharging and the next a winged mech is standing over him. An unusual circumstance but it had happened before; both Smokescreen and Bluestreak had come to see him at odd times just because they needed to be around another of their frame type. It was more often Bluestreak than Smokescreen, the younger mech still suffered from flashbacks of the attack on Praxus.

He tried to understand what was happening but every time he attempted to activate the appropriate program Jazz would move and he’d be distracted. The heat and pressure behind his interface panel not helping the situation at all.

Had his spark finally overcome his processor and made him dream this or was this actually happening?

Prowl stroked Jazz’s thighs, feeling the pliable metal under his hands. It definitely felt real and the way Jazz moved into his hold was reminiscent of Meister; his lover had always craved physical affection from Prowl.

Prowl let Jazz’s words sink in, wanting to believe what he was saying but found his ingrained scepticism holding him back. As much as he desperately wanted to believe this, he would have to satisfy his doubts before letting them get too far.

“Show me.”

Jazz looked down at him for a moment before reaching up and removing his visor. Prowl’s doorwings trembled against his back and his hands tightened on Jazz’s hips. A far too familiar face grinned down at him, silver optics shone like diamonds.

Jazz was Meister, his spark celebrated by slamming around hits chamber in an effort to get out.

Prowl lifted a hand to Jazz’s face, running his thumb from under an optic down to his lips. Jazz leaned into the touch, sending pleased thrills through Prowl’s spark.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

Jazz grinned. “Ya not dreamin’, Prowler. I’m real and I’ll be happy to prove it to ya.”

Black hands reappeared on his plating, running teasing strokes along his transformation seams and digging into the breaks in armour. Prowl arched into Jazz’s hands, his wings fluttering against his back as his new lover stroked their edges.

He bit back a moan and brought his hands up to start mapping out new territory. As Jazz had said, it was a shiny new frame and Prowl was eager to become more familiar with the body his love had designed.

Prowl eased up off the berth and pulled the padding behind him, letting him stay at a seventy degree angle without causing any pain on his still folded doorwings.

Jazz watched, the interested smile never leaving his lips. His hands caressed Prowl’s shoulders and sides as he settled comfortably.

“Wings, Prowler. Let me have ya wings.”

“Later. I don’t want to be distracted just yet.” Prowl replied.

He followed up his words with trailing his fingers over Jazz’s thighs where they were tucked tightly around his hips and Jazz shivered at the touch. Prowl reared up further to catch his lover’s lips in a heated kiss, pleasure bloomed in his spark as Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl’s neck and leaned into him. Plating slid against plating as they worked to bring out the moans from each other.

Prowl’s hands didn’t stop their exploration of Jazz’s frame; he flared his fingers out in an effort to touch as much plating as possible. He held the supple body against him, luxuriating at the soft sounds coming from Jazz; he traced his fingers across the graceful curve of slender doorwings and shuddered in reaction to Jazz’s keening moan.

“Prowler, do that again.”

He did, pressing his fingers against the sensitive plating and activating the clusters of sensors he knew were there. Jazz bucked into his hold, his whole body reacting to the sharp pleasure generated by Prowl’s clever hands.

Jazz gasped into his mouth and Prowl took advantage of the opening. His glossa delved into Jazz’s mouth, stroking along the supple lining and drawing a rough moan from his lover. Jazz pushed back, leaning heavily on his hips. The renewed pressure sent bolt of hot, hard lust straight from his interface array to his spark.

Prowl wanted to throw Jazz down on the berth and retract that tempting panel before reclaiming his lover thoroughly into the padding. The platinum optics staring back at him told him that Jazz wouldn’t resist at all.

“I have a present for ya.” Jazz purred, his sultry optics shining.

“I don’t need anything now that you’re here.”

It sounded a little corny but it was true. Under all the desire and lust his spark harmonized with Jazz so close, especially now that Prowl acknowledged him as his sparkmate.

“That’s too bad since I kept it nice n’ fresh for ya.” Jazz’s hands slipped over his own frame. “It’s hardly been used.”

Prowl’s systems went haywire as he watched Jazz. Black fingers splayed over his hips, their tips sitting so very close to his interface hardware.

“Hardly?” His voice came out strained.

Jazz’s grin was wicked. “Well, ya know I’m bad at self-denial.”

The panel slid back and Prowl had a very clear view of Jazz’s lubricated port. His spike housing was crackling with excess charge and Prowl had to focus on not releasing the locks just yet.

Cooling systems stalled as Jazz slid two fingers into his valve. Prowl stared unable, and unwilling, to look away from the extremely erotic sight.

His fans kicked back on as he listened to Jazz moan and watched those fingers moving in and out of him.

“Prowler…mmmm… I think of ya whenever I do this. I pretend it’s yer hands making me feel so good.”

The fingers pressed in deeper and Jazz jolted, his hips grating sensually on Prowl’s.

“Nnngh, oh yeah Prowler. Ya feel so good…”

Prowl continued to stare, enraptured with the sight of his lover touching himself while sitting on him. The heat that had been building behind his interface panel became too much for Prowl to control and it sprang back, his spike extending with a soft click.

He felt the moisture beading along his valve and hoped that Jazz would be up for more than one round.

 

Jazz purred as Prowl’s interface panel snapped away and the spike he’d been fantasizing about for the last sixteen vorns leapt up to meet him. A shudder ran across his chassis as he removed his fingers, a gentle ache growing now that he was empty.

He grinned saucily as he brought his hand up to his lips and licked along his fingers, the tangy flavour of his lubricant filled his mouth. Jazz revelled in the reaction of Prowl’s powerful engine roaring, the strong vibrations sending sharp pleasure through his valve.

Jazz attempted to keep some control as his gaze locked onto the glistening hardware bared for him. His spike stood ridged and proud, a perfect mix of black and white, while his port beckoned to Jazz with its wet rim.

“Choices, choices, Prowler.” He wrapped a hand around the spike, enjoying the way Prowl jerked into his hold. “I think I want to ride ya until ya screamin’ my name. Sound good, lover?”

Prowl groaned, his optics darkened to a cobalt hue. “Perfect…Please, Jazz. I want you.”

A pleased shiver ran down his backstrut and Jazz leaned down to kiss Prowl, allowing all the pent up passion and need to flow forth into the kiss. His love for Prowl was obvious, if overpowered by the tidal wave of lust carrying them away.

Jazz tilted his hips up and guided Prowl’s spike to the lip of his port. He teased them both by circling his hips and running the spike tip around its inner edge. Prowl’s hands tightened on his waist, threatening to leave dents in the metal there.

With a small smile, Jazz lowered himself onto Prowl. He moaned as Prowl slid inside, the heated stretch of his valve walls had never felt so good. Prowl’s spike was ridged and Jazz had designed his hardware to be a perfect match, as such the sensor clusters ignited as more of the spike pushed into him.

The only problem was that his port had never had anything in it bigger than his fingers and Prowl was definitely bigger than that.

He mewled and rocked his hips, wanting to slam himself down on Prowl but knowing that wouldn’t be a good idea as he could risk tearing something. Prowl’s hands helped ease him down, slowly drawing him up and back down, taking their time to savour this moment.

As much as he wanted to feel Prowl in him fully, Jazz knew that it was technically his first time and he had to do this one slowly. Heat bloomed along every sensor as his untouched port slowly took in every increment of Prowl’s wonderful spike, cycling open with each pulse.

Prowl moaned into his neck, the strain of their situation showing in the tenseness of his body. Jazz felt himself get wetter around the intrusion, his lover’s reaction inciting his body to become more accommodating. The extra lubricant making it slightly easier to slide onto Prowl’s spike.

Jazz panted and keened, not worrying about controlling the noise. He felt stretched, impaled by Prowl’s spike and they hadn’t even gotten all the way down yet. His port ached and heated with the strain of fitting Prowl in. He hadn’t thought he’d made it this close a fit.

“Are you okay, Jazz?”

The smooth harmonics of Prowl’s voice sent darts of sweet desire through his spark. “Yah, babe….I’m good. Just never done this in this body before.”

Prowl groaned, a stressed note that had Jazz tilting his head up to look into his lover’s face. There was a pained expression marring his beautiful features.

“You could have, I wouldn’t have minded.”

Jazz didn’t doubt that. Prowl would have accepted Jazz no matter how he got him back, Jazz was the one with jealousy issues.

“It’s not a very good present if I let someone else play with it first, Prowler.” He rocked his hips up and down, taking more of Prowl’s length.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His words ended on a rough moan as Jazz sank that little bit further.

He grinned and kissed Prowl deeply, he was so in love with this mech it was ridiculous. Prowl was the only mech he knew that would stop interfacing at this point because he thought he might be hurting his partner.

“Ya forgettin’ somethin’, my love.” He kissed his way up to Prowl’s audial. “I’m made for ya.”

With that he pushed down, forcing his port to accept the rest of Prowl’s spike. The Praxian body arched under him, crying out hoarsely as white hands left dents in Jazz’s abdominal plates. Jazz threw his head back, optics offlining as he settled flush with Prowl’s hips. His port rippled as it worked to expand around the spike, sensor clusters sending pleasure pooling in his interface array. Jazz moaned softly as he adjusted, the feeling of being so very full made his head light. Knowing that it was Prowl filling him up made his spark race.

“Ya ready for a lil’ more, lover?”

Prowl gazed up at him with a hungry fire that set Jazz’s energon boiling. Oh yes, he was ready.

Tipping his hips just a bit Jazz started rocking slowly, letting his body continue to get used to Prowl’s. Heat and pressure built quickly and Jazz didn’t doubt that their overloads would be quick to come. Sixteen vorns with only their hands to get them through had left both starved for the full experience.

Prowl’s hands left his waist to play across his wings once again, the dual sensations sending Jazz’s already sensitized frame into spastic jerks. His hips rolled as smoothly as possible between the jerking as Prowl attacked his body with kisses and sensuous touches.

Jazz braced his hands on Prowl’s chest, and lifted up enough to feel his spike slide out and stroke the outer sensors before dropping back down. He picked up his pace, allowing the steady friction to move them towards the goal of overload.

Heat filled the small room as their bodies gave off far more than their cooling systems could handle. Condensation began to bead along their frames, encouraging the smooth motion of frame against frame.

Jazz whined as the ball of heat and pressure built low in his abdomen, the delicious ache that preceded overload. He dropped his hips harder over Prowl, getting their charge up. He’d only need a little longer before he ran out of control.

Prowl thrust up into him on each down stroke, increasing the delightful friction and grinding his spike against the sensor-heavy interior.

“Ooooh…Oh yeah. Baby, you feel so damn good.” Jazz groaned.

Prowl’s hands tightened on his hips, encouraging Jazz to ride him harder. Not that he needed to be asked. Jazz increased his pace, his speed directly affecting the way Prowl writhed under him, and what a glorious sight that was.

It was just as he was descending that Jazz fractured, his head flung backwards and his back arched as the overload exploded through him. White light filled his vision and his mouth opened on a static-laden scream. Heat suffused his systems as he continued to ride out his pleasure and grind on top of Prowl’s hips, his valve cycling down on the spike with every pulse of his overload.

Vaguely Jazz heard Prowl’s answering shout of pleasure and felt the burst of heat hit the back of his port.

Processor lost in a post-bliss daze, Jazz slumped down on Prowl’s chest, the racing of the spark under his helm caused his spark to pulse in response.  Air vents came back to life as their core temperatures returned to a level that could be assisted.

Arms wrapped around his back and Jazz let the warmth of the cuddle fill him with joy and love.

He lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to Prowl’s jawline. “I love ya, Prowl.”

“I love you too, Jazz.” Came the laconic reply.

Jazz rested his head back against Prowl’s chest and enjoyed the security he had found once again after all these vorns. It felt good to be curled around Prowl, it felt even better to have Prowl still seated so deeply within him.

It was several breems later that Jazz finally built up the strength to lift himself off Prowl and slide onto the padding next to him, Prowl’s arms still firmly around his chassis.

“I missed ya, Prowler.”

“You would not have had to wait if you had simply told me who you were.” Prowl’s voice was both sad and amused.

“I thought ya’d be able to recognize me.” Jazz replied. “My spark practically jumped outta me chest when we met.”

Prowl rolled up onto his side and Jazz smiled as he took in the slightly ruffled appearance of his lover. It was so damn sexy. He shifted back a little to allow Prowl to lift up and release his doorwings.

A white hand came up to cup his face, Jazz leaned into the touch. “I’m sorry, Jazz. I had all but given up on you. When I felt the reaction in my spark I thought it was moving on.”

He frowned. “That explains a bit. I’m sorry too, I was meant to be back here vorns ago but I couldn’ let the newbies walk into a trap.”

A serious light filled Prowl’s optics. “What trap? When was this?”

“Slaughter City, four vorns ago. They sent some agents in, didn’ realize the whole place is one big trap. I only just managed to get the scraplets out with my team before the city collapsed.”

It had been a massive failure on the Autobots behalf, bad information had led to almost two thirds of their Ops team getting deactivated when Slaughter City had imploded. Jazz had only found out about the mission after the first team had left, he hadn’t wasted time in explaining how he knew the city was prepped to blow, he’d just collected his team and gone after them. Meister had installed many of the sensors that triggered the destruction.

Jazz would have been proud of the effectiveness of his efforts if he hadn’t been outrunning them at the time.

Prowl frowned. “I approved that mission.”

“I know. My foot was on the transport to come to ya but I knew ya wouldn’ like the bots dying ‘cause ya didn’t have all the information.”

“How did you know it was a trap?”

Jazz shuffled, lightening streaking through his frame as the action brushed still sensitive plating against Prowl. Heat returned to his exposed interface array.

“I may be intimately familiar wit the bot that set it up.”

Confusion briefly replaced the desire on Prowl’s face but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. His hands moved over Jazz’s back and towards his thighs, encouraging more charge to build.

“I’m glad you did. I hate it when mechs die because of my decisions.”

“I know, baby. Funnily enough, I still don’t mind it when it’s because of me.”

Prowl smirked, a tiny lift of his lips but one that made Jazz intensely proud. “I know you’ve changed but I hope you have kept all the fine qualities I fell in love with.”

Jazz grinned. “Ya got no idea just what surprises I have in store for ya, Prowler. My frame might be different but my personality is just tha same, I even have some morals now.”

Prowl laughed lightly, the sound lodging itself deep in Jazz’s spark.

“I think we will need to discuss your new idea of morals soon but first I would like to finish trying out my new plaything.”

Black hips rubbed against his in a sensuous scrape that sent Jazz’s processor spinning and charge climbing in his hardware.

He rolled on top of the Praxian again and seized his mouth in a tender kiss. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

00—00—00—00—00—00

Optimus Prime looked down at the Praxian trotting next to him, the anxious expression and fiddling hands telling him more about the mechs mental state than the lack of conversation. Bluestreak had hunted him down a joor ago, asking that Prime open the door to Prowl’s quarters.

Apparently Prowl hadn’t shown up at his office this cycle. He wasn’t answering his comm. and Bluestreak hadn’t been able to get into his quarter in check if he was still in there.

Subsequently he had convinced himself that Prowl was in danger somehow.

Prime wasn’t convinced but the small mech was adamant that Prowl’s disappearance was too far out of character to not be concerned.

Optimus hoped that Prowl had simply decided to take the day off or his alarm hadn’t woken him. as unlikely as those options were. Then again, he may have worked himself so hard he’d fallen into stasis. That had happened on more than one occasion.

Ratchet followed close behind them, his interest piqued by Bluestreak’s babble. There was an amused gleam in his optic that Optimus didn’t quite trust. Ratchet had always been a mech who watched those around him, perhaps he knew why Prowl hadn’t made it to his office.

Prime pushed the thoughts away as they reached Prowl’s quarters. He used Prowl’s code to open the door and frowned when it didn’t respond. He exchanged a look with Ratchet.

The medic shoved in front of him and entered his medical override. The growl that came from the volatile mech told Optimus that he’d been denied.

“That slagger better have a good reason.”

Prime controlled his frown and reached out to enter his own code, one that should have unlocked any door on base. The door stayed solidly shut.

He entered the code again and received the same result.

“There is bound to be a reasonable explanation for this.” Optimus said. “Yet I am confident that Prowl would not have programmed the door to be impenetrable, no matter what the situation was.”

Bluestreak nodded fretfully. “Prowl would never lock his door like this. I’ve always been able to open it, Smokescreen too. I still get nightmares from Praxus, and he’s always let me stay with him when I get them. Smokey’s the same but his aren’t as bad so he doesn’t need to visit Prowl as often as I do.”

Optimus let Bluestreak continue talking as he contemplated the situation. It was unheard of for a door to be locked against the Prime but he had a suspicion that Prowl hadn’t been the one to alter the security system.

He gaze centered on the security panel, spotting the signs of it being pried off. Whoever had altered the system hadn’t tried very hard to conceal the act.

“I think Prowl may not realize he is locked inside.” He motioned to the panel.

Ratchet grumbled and Bluestreak squeaked, his optics shining anxiously. Ratchet pushed in again, pulling out a thin tool and worked that cover off. Inside, the signs of tampering were obvious.

“Can you get the door open, Ratchet?”

“Yes, are you certain you want me to? You know who’s probably inside.”

Optimus frowned; yes he knew who was more than likely to seal themselves inside Prowl’s quarters.

Truthfully he’d been expecting a resolution to the situation a lot sooner than this. Jazz had been more than eager to reunite with Prowl the cycle he’d transferred in but nothing had happened.

Three orns later and they were still dancing around each other. At least now it seemed that Jazz had decided to act.

“Open it. We can’t be sure of Prowl’s safety until we know the situation.”

Ratchet nodded and fiddled with the wiring. A couple breems later and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Optimus peered into the dim room, the light from the corridor spilling in. His optics adjusted quickly to the gloom, allowing him to pick out the lumpy shape on the berth.

It didn’t look at all like a mecha. He focused his optics as a middle section moved and he realized that he was looking at a leg draped over a back.

Bluestreak shuffled next to him and murmured. “Prowl?”

Movement at the top of the berth caught his attention; a bright visor appeared over the top of, what must have been, Prowl’s helm. A light growling echoed around them as the leg shifted on Prowl’s back and more of Jazz’s head appeared. The growling increased as Jazz’s face was revealed, a warning snarl on his mouth.

Optimus watched as Jazz’s mouth opened and covered a piece of red metal. His denta remained bared as he bit down, causing the mech he was wrapped around to cry out and shudder. The pleasured sound reverberating around the room.

Prime cycled his optics as he caught onto the motion of the bodies; he reached down and gently pushed Bluestreak out of the doorway and back into the corridor. The door automatically closed and Optimus was left staring at the brushed metal surface.

“Can I open it up again?”

He turned a disapproving glare on Ratchet, who looked far too amused. “No.”

“Spoil sport.”

Prime shook his head and turned to face Bluestreak. The little Praxian was still staring straight forward, optics wide with shock.

“Come on, Bluestreak, Prowl will be in his office later. Probably.” He patted the small shoulder. “Take the shift off.”

Bluestreak nodded dazedly and walked off.

00—00—00—00—00—00

Jazz collapsed on his back as his overload dissipated, this systems still thrumming with residual energy.

“Slag, Prowler. I think ya might have actually broke me.”

A soft chuckle came from beside him as Prowl curled into his side, an arm wrapping around his waist and his head resting on Jazz’s chest. “Was I too enthusiastic to play with my present?”

Jazz smiled, contentment and happiness filling his spark. “Never, love. Ya might want to give it more than a few breems between games though.”

Prowl’s chassis rumbled against Jazz in amusement. “I suppose I could consider it…You didn’t have to growl at them.”

“Sure I did. They were interruptin’ a very special moment for me.”

Prowl’s head tipped back and Jazz angled his to look down at his lover. “Special moment? I assure you, this is not a single night affair.”

Jazz beamed. “Believe me, babe, if ya tried to run now I’d follow ya to the edge o’ the universe. But, that’s not what I meant.”

He shifted until he could look Prowl straight in the optic. “Will ya bond with me, Prowler? Make a real Autobot outta me?”

“You _are_ a real Autobot, Jazz, and yes I would be honoured.”

Jazz purred his happiness against Prowl’s lips. His chest-plates unlocking as he rolled over Prowl and settled between his legs, the pressure against his mildly abused interface array made him groan.

He peppered kisses along Prowl’s jawline and neck, enjoying the way his soon-to-be bondmate sighed and squirmed.

“Do ya want to have a ceremony first? Prime’d be expectin’ it.”

Prowl’s hands clenched on his hips. “Optimus Prime made us wait this long. He can wait now.”

Jazz’s laugh faded as Prowl’s armour parted and he was gifted with the sight of Prowl’s internals shifting to bring his spark casing into view. He stared reverently at his lover’s core, the very thing that made Prowl who he was.

The crystalline chamber was rounded, fitting perfectly in the cradle of his protoform. Its pure light spread over Jazz’s face, deep colours changing and melding in harmony.

“Beautiful… Prowler, ya stunning.”

Warmth radiated from the glittering case, beckoning Jazz to touch and claim. He reached out a hand to caress the crystal shell, Prowl’s drawn out moan was the sweetest music he’d ever heard.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispered as his fingers stroked it tenderly. “An’ now I’mma make ya mine.”

“Jazz! Please…I want you.”

“Want me how, Prowler?” He asked grinning.

White hands curled around his head and brought him up to Prowl. Lips met in a heated kiss and Jazz was sure his plating was steaming. Prowl ran a demanding glossa along his lips, prompting Jazz to open them and return the stroke with a teasing flick of his own.

Prowl pulled back and Jazz shivered at the sultry expression. “I want your spark on mine. Now.”

Jazz may have never been a mech that liked following orders, many of his trainers could confirm this, but he was quick to fulfil this request. His chest-plates snapped back and he felt his inner components shift out of the way, a disconcerting sensation at any point.

The draw was instantaneous. The jump in his casing as his spark recognised its partner so close and unprotected. Jazz lowered himself down so that his nose bridge was brushing Prowl’s and their plating pressed together.

With every part of their bodies that they could control, opening a spark chamber was not one. As much as he willed it to happened Jazz just had to wait, braced over Prowl, until nature took over.

He kissed Prowl leisurely, a direct contrast to the burning heat in their sparks, and felt his lover melt under him. The tenseness eased from Prowl’s body and he reached up to stroke along Jazz’s back. The mood quickly changed from passionate need to tender desire, each finding and teasing the hotspots of the other.

Their charge built and soon Jazz was grinding his hips against Prowl slowly, enjoying the bright burn of arousal Prowl had always inspired in him. With each pass Jazz left a paint scruff on the black hips, he shuddered as he felt Prowl’s valve cover open and lubricant smear on his pelvic armour.

“Jazz…nnngh…please. Now.”

A rough groan left his vocaliser as he lined up his still hidden spike. He’d barely sent the command when the panel pulled back and Jazz’s spike extended directly into Prowl’s waiting valve. Two moans filled the heated air.

“Oh, damn Prowler. I will never get enough of ya.” He thrust easily into the wet warmth. Prowl’s valve walls tight around him and clenching rhythmically, encouraging Jazz closer to overload.

Neither was thinking straight when their spark casings opened. The pleasure they were sharing simply became more intense all of a sudden. Jazz could feel Prowl’s pleasure and surprise that the connection had been made. They’d tried in the past but not all their attempts had been successful.

Jazz pushed his love and desire into Prowl. He wanted Prowl to feel the depth of his devotion, even after all these vorns apart. All the times he had clung to his memories of them to get him through the lonely nights. He even brought up the pain/pleasure of being around Prowl these last three orns in Iacon. Jazz wanted Prowl to see it all and know that he hadn’t given up on them, not once.

Prowl’s spark swelled against his, accepting and absorbing the emotions and data flowing into him. Prowl shuddered, his grip tightening on Jazz as they kissed deeply.

He felt the moment that Prowl started projecting his own thoughts and history. Jazz’s arms wrapped more securely around his lover as he felt the loneliness and chaos that Prowl had endured during the first vorns after they’d parted. Jazz watched as each emotional barrier was built and strengthened until Prowl could function without his emotions causing him pain. Jazz spark enveloped more of Prowl’s in response.

He felt the satisfaction of having plans come together smoothly and the pain of losing so many lives, not knowing if one had been his lover. Each loss and failure had reinforced those emotional barriers until the mechs he knew well were barely able to get through to him.

He saw when a couple of Prowl’s walls cracked; once, when Bluestreak had needed him to be a pillar of strength and guidance to keep his demons away, and again when Jazz had grinned at him during their first meeting in the hallway. The confusion that had followed and the sparkache when he’d thought he was leaving Meister behind.

Jazz’s spark warmed, flooding Prowl with reassurance and love. He pushed all the comfort he could and made sure Prowl understood that he would never be alone again. He’d never have to hold those around him at arm’s length because he had the support and love of his bondmate to help him through the hard times.

Their sparks swelled and merged, each contributing to creating a connection that couldn’t be modified or broken.

Then it stopped. For one perfect moment they were joined completely, beyond the understanding of either. One moment that signalled the beginning of their lives, mechs forever changed by their love for the other and the trials they had gone through for that love.

The connection solidified and sent their sparks back into their respective chambers with a force that triggered an overload.

Jazz lay staring up at the ceiling wondering how he’d gotten there when he’d been on top of Prowl only moments ago. His body twitched occasionally as it recovered from the overload. If he’d been asked to describe it he would have said music, the most perfect symphony ever heard. Explosive and serene at the same time, a complex mixture that produced an undefinable emotion in him.

He turned his head, searching out Prowl. His lover lay next to him, features locked in a surprised expression. Jazz reached out and twined their fingers together, he lacked the energy to get any further. Prowl’s head tilted and he smiled as he focused on Jazz, his fingers tightening slightly.

_-I love ya, Prowl.-_

_-As I love you, Jazz.-_

00—00—00—00—00—00

_Several cycles later_

The rec.room was frozen, each mech holding their ventilations as they stared. The only mechs not waiting for the expected flood of anger was the Twins, Bluestreak and Ratchet. The last one was grinning and holding a recording device.

The cause of the disruption was near the door to the commissary. Jazz, well liked and entertaining, had just not-so-casually groped Prowl, cold and terrifying.

Jazz was now leaning against the wall, hands pillowing his head, grinning while Prowl glared at him. From the outside it looked like the world’s most intense staring competition when in actual fact the newly Bonded pair were communicating.

_-I thought we had talked about this.-_

_-We did, an I don’ wanna wait for an ‘ppropriate time. I want them all ta know ya mine.-_

Only the most perceptive saw Prowl’s left wing shiver.

_-Did you have to do it in front of half the army?-_

Jazz’s grin widened. _–I’d be pointless if the message didn’ get around.-_

Prowl let his annoyance bleed through the Bond. He had wanted a solid plan in place before letting others know of their relationship. Jazz responded with an intense desire to have Prowl take him against the wall.

Lust began to burn slowly in spark and Prowl knew that Jazz could feel it too.

 _-Screw the plan, better yet screw me.-_ Jazz’s visor glinted mischievously. _–There ain’t anythin’ wrong with bots knowin’ we’re together.-_

_-You could become a target.-_

_-I’m already a target…If I’m not, I ain’t doin’ my job right.-_

Prowl couldn’t deny that. He had a variety of reasons on hand as to why they should leave off announcing their relationship but Jazz had a strategy for each one. If he didn’t love him so much it would be frustrating.

Jazz’s end of the bond lit up with happiness, almost as if he knew he’d won. Prowl controlled an ex-vent, suspecting that this wouldn’t be the last time Jazz managed to talk him around. His previous self had been very good at it as well.

Jazz straightened, holding out a hand to Prowl. _–I think we can crash at least half of the mechs watchin’ if ya kiss me.-_

 _-That would serve Ratchet for doing his best to catch us.-_ Prowl agreed. The medic’s persistence to get proof of their relationship was starting to get invasive.

Jazz sent through a shrug. _–Let’s be honest, we’re pretty sexy together.-_

Prowl let the slightest smile appear on his lips, his optics softening. _–If I agree will you put on another show for me?-_

Images of Jazz’s display from their first night together bounced between them and Jazz shuddered, arousal flaring through the bond.

_-I’ll even let ya bend me over ya desk.-_

Prowl’s wings twitched blatantly moments before he took Jazz’s hand. _–If this gets you killed, I will hurt you.-_

Jazz’s smiled looked like it was about to crack his face in half. He tugged Prowl close until their chest plates touched and he purred. “C’mon, gorgeous. I got some plans ya gonna like.”

Prowl sent him an exasperated nudge but was amused by the dozen or so mechs that promptly fitzed and collapsed on the floor. Ratchet’s dismayed cry followed them down the hallway.

00—00—00—00—00—00


End file.
